


The Nen Creature Arc

by Sunsinourhands



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Angst, Awkward Romance, Comedy, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Other, Poly, Polyamory solves everything
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-04-08 00:32:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 36,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4283862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunsinourhands/pseuds/Sunsinourhands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nen is a strange thing. For all that's known about it, there is twice as much unknown. As Morel's team fumbles, trying to piece their lives back together, they drag along another stray. The fight isn't the worst. It's trying to adjust, once more, to 'normalcy'. The incident in East Gorteau is over, but not forgotten. </p><p> </p><p>Heavy influence on the expansion of Nen drawn from Mushishi, Kill la Kill, and the Magical girl genre.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Have No Delicacy

            “And that’s how it is,” Morel finished explaining Killua’s situation to Knuckle. The two sat on a cushioned bench beside a vending machine in Central Hospital. The older hunter tilted back a hot coffee as Knuckle fed the machine a few coins and made his choice. Every once in a while, a member of staff or a patient paused to gawk at Knuckle’s old-fashioned white gakuran, but usually scurried off as soon as Knuckle made eye contact with them.

            “Doing that to your own brother or son, I still can’t believe it. Even if they’re a family of assassins, they’re still a family,” Knuckle said.

            Morel grunted. Then, both Hunters paused their conversation as a door opened across the hall and someone walked out. Knuckle watched in the reflection on the machine’s surface as he popped the tab on his drink can.

            The woman who walked out was short—probably 5’3’’ or 5’2’’—and not the type of person that Knuckle was used to seeing. Knuckle didn’t know a single thing about women’s clothing, but was sure he had seen a similar outfit in the window of an upscale shopping district. Stockings, skirt, high heels, soft-looking shirt, a bright, lightweight scarf, jewelry, and jacket that might as well have been tailor-fit: these might as well have been alien artifacts to Knuckle. But, he knew the indications of class when he saw them. What else? Short, dark hair in an angled bob and intense, red lipstick on her lips. Her eyes were large and dark, framed by thick lashes. Her skin had an even, golden brown color and she had an oval-shaped face. Ah, a rich beauty. Knuckle thought, taking a drink.

            Other than hunters, it was rare to see someone with the means to come to Central Hospital for medical work. And since this woman lacked any aura worth mentioning, that meant that she either had the money or the social connections, or both, to be there. So she had to be a genuine ojou-san.

            Out of the corner of his eye, Knuckle watched Morel examine the young woman as well. But, after a short glance the Sea Hunter choked on his coffee, spat out what was in his mouth, and shouted.

            “Skuld-chan, is that you!?”

            The woman paused, hand on the strap of her expensive-looking purse as she made eye contact with Morel.

            “Eh? Morel-san?” She asked, eyes going wide in surprise.

            “Holy shit, I haven’t seen you in a long time. What are you doing here?” Morel, completely ignoring the coffee on the floor, got up and shook the woman’s hand. Eyes on the spilt coffee, the woman replied.

            “Just the yearly check up. The Association ended up giving me health insurance even after I quit, and it would be a shame not to use it,” she smiled and laughed as Morel’s hand seemed to engulf her much smaller one. Her eyes kept going back and forth between the growing puddle of coffee on the floor and Morel’s face.

            “Yeah, after that shit with Pariston it’s really the least they could do. Anyway, this is Knuckle Bine—one of my apprentices. Knuckle, this is Skuld Betony. She’s a freelance exorcist that the Association works with sometimes,” Morel motioned Knuckle over. Skuld extended her hand, and Knuckle shook it—noting that his hand completely dwarfed hers. Definitely as Knuckle would have expected of an ojou-san. But, if Morel had described her as an exorcist then she had to be a Nen user. What was up with her Nen, then? Knuckle did not sense it at all.  
“You aren’t a Hunter?” Knuckle asked. The Temp Hunters all seemed to be in Pariston’s pocket, so he wasn’t sure why Morel was so friendly with this woman.

            “Well, Morel asked me to take the exam once. The written portion was fine, and so was the second portion. But, while waiting for the third task, I ended up getting heat stroke and fainted before it even began. Luckily someone treated me, because I almost died,” she said.

            “Ah?” Knuckle paused mid hand-shake—mouth open. “Seriously?”

            “It’s really pitiful, isn’t it?” Skuld laughed, and nodded.

            “Speaking of that, you’re definitely looking much healthier. I barely recognized you. Maybe you should try again. This time don’t hold back on the Nen—an advantage should be used,” Morel said.

            “I’ll think about it. I still feel like it would be better if I could make it without Nen like the others,” she said.

            “Eh? No way. It’s fine. It’s fine. You are definitely a support-type, so there’s no need to compete with the fighters. My apprentices both used their Nen during the exam. Just hurry up and get your license already. You can join my crew. You aren’t a combat type, but I’m sure I can figure out how to help you too,” Morel gave a thumbs up.

            “Morel-san…please take this seriously,” Skuld ran a hand through her hair.

            Knuckle found himself smirking. Even though Morel gave him a hard time about being too soft, Knuckle knew that the Sea Hunter was just as bad as him when it came to taking in ‘strays.’ Even though Knuckle’s attitude had been terrible when he was a kid, and he tried to run away a lot, Morel never gave up on him. Every time Knuckle ran away, Morel dragged him back kicking and screaming. Shoot had joined years after. Even though years had passed, it looked like Morel still had the same habit.

            “Give it up. If the old man’s made up his mind, you’ll be stuck with us even if ya don’t pass. Better just say ‘yes’ now so we don’t have to chase you around. He’ll make us track you down, too,” Knuckle grinned.

            “And it’s not like you’re doing anything now. You finished school years ago, and quit working as an Office Lady after that,” Morel added.

            When Skuld didn’t say anything, Morel sighed and put his large hand on the young woman’s dark hair and began tussling it. Knuckle found himself feeling nostalgic. Shoot’s face had looked the same at first, and Knuckle was sure he had once had the same expression of lost anxiety. Morel had definitely set his sights on another stray.

            “Don't worry. You don’t have to make a decision right away. Come on, there’s some people you should meet,” he said.

            “Morel-san…don’t treat me like a child,” Skuld said, brushing off Morel’s hand.

            “Eh? Aren’t ya?” Knuckle stared at Skuld. If he had to guess, she was probably in her mid to late teens given her height. Morel said she had just finished school, so she had to be a brainy, studious kid to be finished that early. At least then Morel wouldn’t have to harass her to pass high school. She’d probably end up getting spoiled by Morel and babied by everyone else. Ah, but it would be nice to have a cute, little-sister type to--

            “I’m twenty-five years old,” Skuld said, face stern.

            “Hah?” There was a pause where Knuckle once again looked at Skuld.

            “Haaaaaaaaah?! Are ya kidding me? Didja forget to drink yer milk or what? Yer a total shrimp!” Knuckle laughed.

            “Do you want to see my ID?” Skuld asked, already fishing around the inside of her purse. This sort of honest reply only made Knuckle laugh more and even made Morel chuckle.

            “She is just one year younger than you, Knuckle. I met Skuld a few years ago, before she graduated from university. She’s definitely grown up a lot since then,” Morel said.

 

* * *

 

            What a damn disaster. Palm’s upper lip curled as she tapped her finger on the table. Here she was, trying her best to socialize with the person she might as well have zero in common with, and he couldn’t be bothered to even meet her half-way. This was all Morel Mackernasey’s fault. Of all places to ask Ikalgo, Meleoron, and herself to wait, Morel had to abandon them in Shoot’s room at the hospital.

            It was hard for Palm to hold on to her old attachment to Knov, and thus impossible to hold onto her resentment that Knuckle and Shoot prevented her from going to NGL originally. But, even without a reason, the background irritation she felt just being in the same room as one of those two was the same.

            She slid her attention to Meleoron and Ikalgo, who were pouring out tea. The two Chimera Ants, stone-faced, avoided making eye contact with her. If Palm had to pick the worst change from what happened to her in NGL, this would be it. Her time spent in that chrysalis removed the roses from her vision, giving her unwanted clarity on the varying greys once populated by black and white.

            There were no more charming princes. No more enemies attempting to foil her love life. In the end, it was all in her head, wasn’t it? No charming man cast a spell on Palm. Palm cast the spell on herself. And, now that the illusion was dispelled, all that was left was the smell of industrial cleaning supplies and the constant chatter of hospital staff. The presence of people she would have said she hated from the bottom of her heart, people who nevertheless came to rescue her and accepted her after her transformation.

            It would have been better if they had rejected her. It would have been easier. Even if they tried to care but couldn’t meet her eyes, like Knov, it would have been better than this.  
The open window let in a cool spring breeze. Several species of the trees on the hospital grounds were blooming in pastel blues, pinks, and pale yellow. In her previous life, Palm’s allergies would have been in full force on a day like this. Loud birds back for their spring migration north. A room empty of any helpful distractions, just Meleoron and Ikalgo making tea.  
Those two adapted way too well to life as ‘humans.’ The nurses harassed Meleoron over smoking, and little else. Even for medical staff that primarily served Hunter Association related patients, wasn’t that a little too adaptable? And Ikalgo was already excited to go clothes shopping with Killua after Killua’s mysterious sister healed Gon. It pained Palm to think about Ikalgo at the mercy of Killua’s tragic fashion sense. And, yet. How was it that those two made her feel like the one at fault, just because she couldn’t think of a damn thing to talk to the somber idiot recovering in the same room?

            “Oi. Do you have any hobbies?” Palm tried a shot in the dark.

            “Hobbies?” Shoot’s voice was so flat Palm barely registered that it was a question. Shoot barely moved his focus to Palm before retreating back to his book.

            Palm watched the UMA hunter make a few quiet noises, probably over-thinking what would be something good to say. Alright. She could do this. Palm could be patient. A few minutes dragged by, Shoot growing progressively anxious as the silence stretched on. Alright. Forget hobbies. Maybe he had some sort of embarrassing hobby he didn’t want to talk about.

            “Nevermind. What’s your type?” Palm asked.

            The newly transformed chimera ant didn’t think it was possible for someone to choke on nothing, and yet Shoot appeared to choke on air and turned bright red.

            “Why are you asking me this?” Shoot looked like he was in danger of swallowing his own tongue.

            “Don’t pretend like you aren’t interested in that sort of thing. You and Knuckle used to talk about my look a lot back then, didn’t you? So I know you at least don’t mind women,” Palm continued.

            “That—that was more of a discussion of whether or not you were using Nen to alter your appearance,” Shoot choked out. His voice kept growing quieter and lower—as if he could escape the conversation by avoiding being heard.

            “Oi. Are you saying I’m not cute? That’s pretty rude,” Palm frowned.

            “N-No. I—I mean. You were completely unrecognizable! What were we supposed to think? No one knew what your Nen abilities were,” Shoot forced his voice a little louder.

            “Word to the wise, don’t tell any other woman that. You have no delicacy. You’ll never understand a maiden’s heart like that,” Palm said. Ok. Good. Offering friendly advice. That was a step in the right direction. Wasn’t it?

            “Don’t use cheesy phrases like that so casually,” Shoot seemed to deflate, and refocused on his paperback.

            “Don’t underestimate your own lack of delicacy. Just tell me you’re type. I’ll help you out. It’s a peace offering,” Palm watched as Shoot attempted to physically hide himself behind that paperback book. His hand alone would have been enough to hide that novel. Tch. Whatever. Palm tried. Maybe she’d wring the information out of him over time.

            Geeze. Was that guy still red all the way up to his ears? Heh.

            In the end, Palm couldn’t resist torturing him. Just a little. Palm tapped her fingernails on the table again, adopting a serious expression. Although Palm did not reveal any aura that would have given away her intent, she thought she saw Meleoron and Ikalgo exchange disapproving glances.

            “You seem like the type who likes women who wear glasses. I bet you never gathered your courage to confess even once in high school,” Palm grinned as Shoot made another strangled noise.

            By the time Knuckle, Morel, and Skuld made their way to the correct floor, they could already hear the shouting from the elevators. Morel squared his shoulders and stooped over to get through the doorway, already yelling himself.

            “What the hell is going on here? You’re disturbing the other patients, so knock it off!” Yes, he expected to find a racket, but not in Shoot’s room of all places.

            Palm scowled and turned the other way, muttering something. Shoot looked like he was two seconds away from attempting to hobble out of the room, and was a shade of red so bright it could have been mistaken for sunburn.

            “Morel, Palm is bullying Shoot! She’s bullying him!” Ikalgo said, cup of tea in one hand.

            “Are you bullying Shoot?” Knuckle squeezed past Morel and began shouting at Palm himself.

            “She was doing it. Palm’s a bully,” Ikalgo couldn’t hide the small grin forming on his face as Palm turned to him.

            “You little traitor—” Palm hissed, inwardly happy that at least someone would play along with her.

            “What did I tell you about playing nice?” Morel put a hand over his sunglasses.

            Now that the attention was off of him, Shoot took a few moments to take some deep breaths. Alright. Ok. He was going to be fine. Even though it was louder, maybe he could actually read.

            It was then that Shoot noticed someone unfamiliar in the doorway.

            “Hello,” Shoot said, only realizing that he had greeted someone he didn’t know after the fact. Oh, but it was already done. Still, that didn’t seem normal.

            Skuld turned her attention from watching the growing fuss in the room and towards the hospital bed. Oh man, there was another super-tall guy here as well. His features were—well, all of him looked angular and sharp. The combination of his dark eyes and numerous ear piercings gave him a menacing appearance. He didn’t have any eyebrows, either. But, his voice was almost miss-matched with his appearance, shy and soft. Although Skuld always appreciated how friendly hunters seemed to be, they seemed to commonly come in the ‘tall and muscular’ variety—and this person was no exception.

            It was easier to handle back when she could hide behind a desk and paperwork and use that barrier to separate herself from them. But, when standing close to someone so large that they could cast her entire body or presence in shadow, Skuld wanted to go home and return to long sleeps in her dark apartment—things she knew were indications of a deep sadness she could not return to.

            These hunters. They always seemed so large, like they could take up an entire room all by themselves. What made it worse was that they tended to treat her almost too kindly. The more and more she spent time around Morel especially, it felt like if she weren’t careful then she would become a weak person who relied upon others. And then? And then she would become a selfish person who would desire attention from others.

            No one could live alone. But, Skuld Betony found comfort in self-imposed isolation. She did this because she noticed that the moment she began to grow attached to others, the harder it was to hold all the pieces of herself together. The longer she spent in the company of others, the more she worried she would lose her hold if she were alone again. After all, the loneliness in an empty room was somehow easier to bear than the loneliness in a crowded place.

            But, this was a hunter. This was someone who lived in a different world than Skuld’s. As they would probably never meet again, conversation was somehow natural. She made eye contact with the tall and somber-looking man in the hospital bed and smiled.

            “Hello. My name is Skuld Betony,” she said.

            “Shoot McMahon,” Shoot replied. 

            “Does it hurt a lot?” She asked. Shoot followed her line of sight to his leg.

            “No. It’s good as new. The doctors are removing the cast today,” Shoot said.

            “That’s good to hear,” the woman said.

            This was strange. Since when did Shoot engage in small talk? These days, a lot of things were easier for Shoot. But, that didn’t stop surprise from welling up when things that previously seemed all but impossible came almost naturally. For a few minutes, they spoke about the author of the book Shoot was reading, raising their voices to be heard over the commotion.

            “Yes, he’s quite prolific. What is the count now, in the high seventies?” Skuld asked.

            “I thought it was in the fifties, for complete novels at least. I’m not sure what he’s at if short stories are included,” Shoot replied.

            “Well, you know how he had that horror series under a different name, because he was convinced his popularity was a fluke? Well, he admitted to having a second pseudonym recently. So the count’s gone up again,” Skuld said.

            “Oh. Another one?” Shoot asked.

            “Yes. I think that pen name is on his website now. Everything under that name is very experimental, very ‘House of Leaves,’”

            “I heard about that novel. Isn’t it expensive for a paperback, though?” Shoot asked.

            “Yes, but that’s because there is color text, so the printing costs are higher. But, it is much harder to understand the story without the color. And it’s definitely one of those books that needs at least three reads,”

            “I see. I’ll have to remember to pick that up soon as well,” Shoot said.

            Just what was this? Knuckle and Morel had little to no interest in reading for entertainment. So maybe it was just the fact that he hadn’t been around someone who even knew what he was talking about for years. But, there was something unfamiliar about this kind of conversation. Was it almost exciting? There was a slow build of anxiety as well, lurking in the background. Wasn’t this too easy? These thoughts filled Shoot’s head as the conversation continued.

            “Still…oh,” Skuld’s voice trailed off, and Shoot watched her slowly reach forward to the air above his cast. He was about to say something. But, he saw a vague and dark shape twisting in and out of his cast and leg. Shoot knew that Skuld did not put it there. In the way that an ultraviolet light can reveal the otherwise invisible, it almost seemed like the proximity of Skuld’s hand ripped through a veil to show what was already there and had been for a long, long time.

            It was the thing that ate his left arm. Shoot had not seen it in over a decade. In that time, he could not remember he wasn’t sure if he had really seen it or hallucinated it. But, now he knew it was real. He knew what it would do.

            “Don't touch that thing!” He shouted.

            But, like a long-necked crane that had just spotted a fish in its strike zone, Skuld’s hand snaked forward and struck. In a series of practiced motions, Skuld’s fingers formed a tight grip over the squirming shadow and restricted its movement like a snake coiling around its prey.


	2. That's Called Kidnapping

            The room fell silent. Ikalgo and Meleoron, used to the humans in this hospital being harmless, had not taken notice of the stranger. There was a small human woman standing beside Shoot’s bed. But, more importantly, there was a _thing_ in her hands. It was a terrible color, like that of flesh already rotting off the bone—covered in an inky darkness like tainted water. Over three feet long, and covered in thrashing spines, it resembled something nightmarish from the bottom of the ocean. But, worst was the mouth—a clenching and undulating gash circled by three layers of teeth.

            Everyone in the room saw the last motion of Skuld yanking the last foot of the awful creature out of Shoot. It thrashed about in the air—silent and eerie and emanating an aura of death and decay—trying to find some posture where it could strike at the young woman holding it. If Nen was the energy of life, this creature was the total opposite of that. It reminded each and every one of them of Pitou’s En.

            As each member of the extermination team paused, unsure of what to do in this situation, Skuld spoke. But, she did not take her eyes or focus off the creature she held.

            “Flannel, snack,” She said, and the bright violet scarf around her neck slid on its own—unwinding and rearing up like a curious snake. Bright patterns in the scarf’s weave shifted, merging and splitting into one bright eye, and a number of odd markings woven into the purple fabric that shifted into new shapes with each passing second. At the sight of the thing in Skuld’s hand, Flannel the scarf twitched back and forth like a cat preparing to pounce. Then, a hole as deep and endless as a void opened from between the weave in Flannel’s body to form a mouth.

            “Go get it,” Skuld said, before throwing the dark creature into the air. Flannel was immediately upon it in a single whip-like motion, forcing it into the void-like maw and bending to send more and more of the creature into its mouth with every movement. Once Flannel closed its mouth it moved around, making crunching noises and a few contented rustling sounds. Then, it paused, eye growing wide. Then the mouth opened once again to release an ash-colored gout of smoke and loud burp before settling down, and winding its way up to and around Skuld’s neck once more. This time, there seemed to be more length to Flannel than before, and the terrible aura was extinguished.

            “Good job, Flannel,” Skuld said, as Flannel made a pleased-sounding warble and settled back into place around her neck.

            Then she turned, and the small smile on her lips vanished. Once Skuld took notice of the people in the room once more, she grew tense. Shoot watched as her eyes widened. In that moment, he recognized Skuld’s expression: fear. But, what did someone like her have to fear from anyone in that room if she could do what she had done? Skuld must not have much fighting experience, because her motions were transparent—intentions obvious. It was like observing a bird that had caught the first sign of a cat or hawk. If someone didn’t do something, she was going to run.

            And then what? In some ways, Shoot could understand the desire to flee the moment when he became the center of attention. It’s what he would have done. But, another part of him said, if this woman left he might never understand what had just happened. He might never understand what had happened when he lost his left arm, or why it was that a stranger saw that _thing_ lurking beneath his skin when even he could not.

            Shoot reached out and grabbed Skuld’s wrist with his right hand. For a moment, he was sure he’d missed somehow, because his fingers kept closing on air. It was then that Shoot realized how much smaller Skuld was than either Morel or Knuckle. He probably could have held both of her wrists with one hand. It would be easy. That thought worried him. What if he seriously injured her by accident? This wasn’t Morel or Knuckle. He loosened his grip.

            “T-thank you,” Shoot said, louder than he would have preferred.

            “No problem. Don’t worry about it,” Skuld whispered, staring at him with still-wide dark eyes.

            “I knew you’d grown up, Skuld-chan!” Shoot let go of the woman’s wrist as Morel slung one giant arm around the young woman’s shoulder and laughed, practically dragging her further into the room. Morel caught Shoot’s eye and nodded at his apprentice—grateful that he’d prevented Skuld from making a run for it. Skuld squirmed against Morel’s arm, high-heeled shoes barely skimming the floor. She turned her face from Shoot to Morel, then Shoot, then settling on Morel.

            “Morel-san…let me go!”

            “No way! Look at you, probably ranking in the top five Nen Exorcists internationally and still this shy. Get over here and make some friends. Geeze. I didn’t think you’d be this unsociable at your age,” Morel yelled back, approaching the table everyone else sat around.

            “Nen…Exorcism?” Meleoron asked.

            “That’s right. Some Nen users are strong enough to leave curses on others. Even after those guys die, the effect of their Nen remains. If Skuld-chan could get rid of a curse that powerful, she is definitely world-class among non-combat types,” Morel grinned, even as Skuld continued to struggle.

            “Oooooh. That is a pretty useful ability to have,” Ikalgo put down his tablet—impressed by someone that Morel had such high praise for. That meant she was definitely a reliable person. Even if this person couldn’t fight, the fact that she wasn’t scared by such a terrible aura was definitely admirable.  

            “Nice to meet you, I’m Ikalgo,” Ikalgo extended one hand.

            “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, my name is Skuld Betony,” the woman paused her struggle to shake Ikalgo’s hand.

            “Palm Siberia,”

            “Meleoron,”

            The introductions continued.

            “How long have you known Morel?” Meleoron asked.

            “Probably…about three years?” Skuld said.

            “That’s odd, you seem very familiar but I can’t quite place where we met,” Palm said.

            The noise started up again, and Morel’s phone rang. The sea hunter set down Skuld and answered his cell. Palm, Meleoron, and Ikalgo all seemed to close in—wary of spooking the young woman, but understanding that they shouldn’t let her run off. 

            “What? Already? Shit. We’ll be right there,” Morel turned his face from the phone and to the others in the room.

            “Killua is inbound. Palm, Ikalgo, you know where to go. Knuckle, you’re with me. We gotta deal with some bullshit with the election. Meleoron, keep Shoot and Skuld company. This could be a while, but we’ll all go out for dinner and booze afterwards. I’ll even treat you all,” Morel said. Then, the room emptied.

            Face flushed, Skuld ran her hand through her hair and took a seat where Palm had been.

            _Now_ , Skuld thought, _I’ve really messed up_. Part of Skuld Betony wanted to cry because she wanted to go back to the beginning of this day and avoid it all together. This was because part of her was afraid of becoming familiar with Morel and his group and learning that she really didn't want to be alone after all. Part of Skuld Betony wanted to cry because she already knew that, and she hadn’t buried the feeling deep enough this time. Part of Skuld Betony wanted to cry because, in the end, despite the dread of being a burden one of the major focuses in her mind, she wanted to be a part of a happy, laughing group, too.

            Years of self-reflection and heavy consumption of psychological papers taught Skuld that these were all ‘normal reactions,’ ‘human reactions.’ So why was it that it was so difficult to allow herself to be selfish? Why was it so difficult to leave the cocoon she had spun around herself? Fear of failure, probably, the young woman thought. It was pitiful, Skuld thought, that she somehow seemed to be able to write a praise-worthy paper on this subject, but couldn’t apply years of academia to her own life. All of these things swirled and mired together, a tumultuous and stormy sea in Skuld Betony.

 _Probably_ , the woman thought as she looked out the window, _if I really want to change the way I am…I’m going to need to pay the price for a little help after all._ _So much for doing it on my own._

            Skuld Betony closed her eyes.

 _I am fine. I am not a bad person. I am worthy of being with others. I am worthy of friendship, of love. I am worthy of life._ She thought to herself, a mantra that she hoped she would believe one day soon.

 

* * *

 

 

            Once Knuckle and Morel were out of earshot of the others, Knuckle spoke.

            “Hey, Shishou, what are we actually doing?”

            “You know that _no one_ should have been able to remove that thing, world class or not, right? It was in a class of creatures that are unknown to even most inside the association,” Morel asked, jaw set and eyes serious behind his sunglasses.

            “Right,” Knuckle responded.

            “We’re going to ask Beans about it. The Chairman mentioned something about this kind of thing to me once before in passing, and asked me to tell him if I saw anything like it,” Morel said.

            Knuckle nodded. The pair was silent all the way to the Association’s main building and then to Bean’s office. Once Morel explained the situation, Beans also grew quiet and asked them to wait. He re-emerged from a back room with a DVD and a laptop. The three of them settled into a few couches before beginning the DVD.

 

> //
> 
>             An image of the late chairman winked onto the screen. He stroked his beard and smiled. His signature poster ‘heart is important’ could be seen off to one side behind him.
> 
>             “If you’re watching this, it means that several things have come to pass. Please bear with me, as this all requires some explanation.
> 
>             Back when my grandfather was a boy, long before there was a Hunter Association, there were folk who roamed the countryside called ‘Servants of The Green.’ They could see creatures in the world that no one else could—able to cure otherwise incurable diseases and foretell calamities. I hypothesize that creatures of The Green were creatures composed entirely of Nen, or something similar. But, in all my time as chairman, I have never seen a single Servant, or a creature of The Green in person.
> 
>             My grandfather told me that all of the Servants were slaughtered to the last child before my father was born. It seems those people rarely had any capacity for fighting, historically. But, for a long time, I thought that surely one would turn up if I became chairman the Hunter Association and gained access to more information. For decades, there was no indication that they had even existed aside from my grandfather’s stories.
> 
>             However, as I grew older I came into the possession of some very old documents that suggested that the powers of The Green could not be learned through Nen training. A Servant is created when a creature of some sort from Dark Continent meddles with a human life—and that human is given a mantle of power. If there is ever to be a successful journey to the Dark Continent or a solution to the five great calamities, I believe that someone with powers of The Green would be key—if not required for success.
> 
>             Over the years, I’ve found a few young people that might possibly have been granted the powers of The Green by studying the old records that make it to the Association, and making comparisons to recent events. There have been a few omens that suggest one might show up soon. But, our current records are spotty at best. It looks like in the past the records referring to candidates for this mantle were also systematically destroyed.
> 
>             It is of the utmost importance that anyone showing this power is kept alive, protected, and trained to the best of our abilities. The power of The Green can be passed down through bloodlines once it has been granted, and without diminishing in earlier generations. If anything, it gains power throughout the generations. Again, this is something we would consider impossible—although the records are all in agreement on that. But, if I’m right, no one has been granted this power in over four hundred years. There may be some requirements we are not aware of. If someone has appeared with this power, this is not a chance we can squander.
> 
>             Anyway, here are the signs I have been looking for:
> 
>             First, this person would have seemed to have spontaneously gained Nen powers without a teacher—probably from an early age—with minimal if any combat capability. That cuts down on a lot of candidates, since most who learn Nen do so through fighting.
> 
>             Second, this person would not only be able to see creatures that not even Hunters could see—but be able to reveal them to others. I’m not sure how, the translations are vague.
> 
>             Third, a candidate would possess a strong mental fortitude. Regardless of their physical strength, they should have been able to push past their theoretical physical or mental limits by force of will multiple times.
> 
>             Fourth, any strong candidate would possess an impossibly strong Nen Exorcism ability. At the very least, they should be able to remove Nen left by the dead. I’m not sure if this is part of the power the Dark Continent grants them, or something that is required before they can be granted power.
> 
>             Fifth, green eyes are not essential. However, there are many records of Servants with eerily bright green eyes.
> 
>             There are at least five candidates that are likely. But, my money is on Skuld Betony from the Sahelta States. Part of it is my intuition, and part of it is that I am positive that Pariston meddled with her records. Unfortunately, I haven’t found enough evidence to act.
> 
>             Above all else, you must not let Pariston get his hands on any person showing these abilities. I will provide you with some translations of old texts that Piyon worked on. Sorry I can’t provide any help on how to train such a person aside from these. Ask Biscuit Krueger. She has a talent for training Nen users, and I’m sure she’ll have a few ideas. A location either near the ocean or a mountain may help in some way, though. This is where the texts mention Servants of the Green living most often—”
> 
>             At this point in the video, the chairman bowed his head to the camera.
> 
>             “—Please take care of this person. They could provide valuable insight to the world and the creatures in it that we have lost to time and pointless destruction. I’m worried that if someone like this has appeared, that something on a huge scale may happen in the near future. If they do not survive, we may well be ill equipped to handle what is coming for the foreseeable future. I’m counting on you,” The chairman said, before sitting back up. Then, the video went black. 
> 
> //

 

            Knuckle sat back, the same drink can from earlier still in his hand.

            “Shishou?” Knuckle began.

            “Shit. This is going to complicate things. Skuld-chan’s gotta come with us. But, we still gotta get her to agree to it. If we just bring her, she’ll be mad,” Morel scratched at the back of his head.

            “That is called ‘kidnapping’ Morel-san,” Beans said and then paused, “Skuld Betony, that name sounds familiar.”

            “She’s the one who cursed Parison,” Morel said.

            “Oh yes, I remember her now. That was about three years ago, when we were in a meeting with the chairman,” Beans continued, “She kicked in the door, threw a stapler at Pariston, and then started yelling at him for that incident with the storage warehouse. When he tried to calm her down…what was it she said?” Beans’s voice trailed off.

            “First of all, she didn’t just throw a stapler at Pariston. Skuld got him in the face with the stapler, and it was open. _She stapled Pariston_ , and then when that little rat tried to calm her down she said,” Morel pitched his voice high, and put his hand on his hip in an impersonation of Skuld.

            “You eat a _giant_ bag of _dicks_ , sir!” Morel said, voice going even higher in the middle. Beans began chuckling. Knuckle spat out his soda onto the table and nearly Beans, and then began laughing hysterically. The mental image of an ojou-san like Skuld saying something so rude and direct was too much. But, Morel continued, miming throwing various things.

            “Don’t tell me to calm down! You get in the trash can where you belong! I’d tell you do go into the recycling, but even if they melted you down they wouldn’t find anything worth salvaging! You can't talk your way out of this one!” Morel picked up the small rubbish bin by the couch and started pointing into it.

            Knuckle had to set down his drink, clutching at his sides with loud laughter.

            “Yes, I remember,” Beans continued over Knuckle’s increasing volume, as he fished a handkerchief out of his jacket and began wiping up the drink on the table, “I was so shocked that I didn’t know what to say. Pariston did dodge the clipboard and trashcan. But, a few days later the Vice Chairman started getting bug bites only between his toes, and the men’s room was only out of toilet paper when he went in.

            It got worse and worse. Even the Zodiacs knew about it. Eventually it was too much, and he had to apologize to her.  It was a complete HR nightmare. The chairman had a good laugh about that, didn’t he? I did always wonder why you or the chairman never stopped her in that meeting, though, Morel-san,”

            “Isn’t it obvious? It was funny. The chairman hadn’t laughed that hard in months, and he was so amused that he sent flowers to her house later,” Morel said.

            “But, what if something had happened?” Beans sighed.

            “Oh come on. Skuld-chan is so gentle she didn’t even do anything dangerous to _Pariston_. The worst she inflicted on him was bug bites. Well, those and the stapler. But, she’s a huge softie. Pariston bullied her for a long time. He deserved every second of it. But, if you want me to, get me her records and I can look into her background. She’s a registered citizen, so there shouldn’t be anything difficult to access. She’s coming with Knuckle, Shoot, and me anyway. We’ll keep a good eye on her,” Morel said.

            “Understood. Thank you for your hard work. I’ll have someone start on that. In the meantime, do you know where you will be headed, Morel-san?” Beans asked.

            “Yeah. There’s a seaside town I used to use as a base of operations back in the day. It’s close enough to the wilderness and sea that we should still get work done. Plus, the house should be pretty secure,” Morel said.

            “I think I know where that is. Let me know when you arrive. I believe that the Chairman set some money aside for any expenses incurred. But, the funds will have to be transferred in secret. But, that’s nothing that can’t be handled,” Beans said.

            “Will do. If that’s it, then we should get going,” Morel said.

            Beans nodded. Then, the two hunters left the room—headed towards the parking lot where Gon was being healed.

            “It looks like we got involved in something big, again,” Knuckle sighed.

            “I’m planning on keeping this as quiet as possible. Everyone knows that I’m headed back to the seaside, anyway. So it shouldn’t cause any suspicion. You get Shoot up to speed when you can make sure no one is listening in. Other than the three of us, we need to keep this on a strictly need-to-know basis, got it?”

            “Got it, shishou,” Knuckle said. There was a long silence before Knuckle spoke again.

            “Skuld, I don’t think she’s a bad person. She just doesn’t give off that feeling,” he said.

            “Yeah. You know, she used to be so damn meek and quiet. I was really surprised when she stood up to Pariston that time. She’s changed. I can’t think of her as a bad person, either. Skuld-chan is really honest. Anyway, if she’s this 'Servant of The Green' thing or whatever, she’s definitely the type who would get used by someone into dirty politics. So we’re just going to make sure Pariston doesn’t sink his claws in her, even if she gets mad and tries to curse me,” Morel said.

            “Heh,” Knuckle grinned.

            “What?”

            “You eat a giant bag of dicks, sir,” Knuckle started laughing again.

            “I know right? It was even better when she said it,” Morel said.


	3. Even the Scarf Knows You Can’t Just Do That

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Emotionally and Financially Abusive parents.

            Geeze. What made him do that? Shoot’s heart pounded so hard and fast that he could almost hear it.  He couldn’t remember ever initiating physical contact with someone in a casual setting, and _never_ touched someone he didn’t know like the way he had just then. Thinking about it made his chest pound even more. This was Palm’s fault. If she hadn’t asked him weird questions, he wouldn’t be like this. He wouldn’t be thinking about someone he didn’t know, much less like this.

            That woman. Her hand and wrist were very small, very slender. Very smooth. Very soft. Shoot bit his lip. Yeah. Palm’s harassment had made him all too conscious of the fact that, no, he had never been on a date. He’d never managed to tell a woman he liked her. So, what was the point in him even trying? It was beyond his reach.

_But_ , another part of his mind said, Betony-san was very pretty. Was she approaching bijin-san territory? Ye—maybe. Maybe? Shoot rarely talked with his work colleagues, and even then even less about women. Honestly, he had no clue what someone else would think about Betony-san.

            On one hand, it would be completely natural to think these things, right? After all, wasn’t he a grown man? He liked women. Women were—no. This was something he should have tried harder to purge from his mind. There was no point in creating more anxiety for himself over something that, if he had his way, would never come up in conversation again. Shoot tried to put these thoughts out of his mind and listen as Skuld and Meleoron spoke.

            “Flannel-kun is interesting,” Meleoron said, holding up Skuld’s scarf. Flannel also seemed interested in the Chimera Ant, examining Meleoron and making a few soft noises.

            “It’s alright for him to eat things like that?” Meleoron asked.

            “Yes. He can only eat things like that and Nen in the first place,” Skuld said.

            “Oh, what’s that?” Meleoron asked, looking at something in Skuld’s hands.

            “Just some drawing practice. I figure if we’re going to be here for a while, I may as well do something. I wish I had brought some work after all,” Skuld said.

            “Could I take a look?” Meleoron asked. Behind him, Flannel began peering at the advertisements Palm left on the table.

            “Go ahead,” Skuld said.

            As Shoot tried to will his heart into settling down, he listened to Meleoron turn pages in Skuld’s sketchbook.

            “These are really good. Who taught you how to draw?”

            “I didn’t have a teacher until my first year in university. It was definitely easier to improve with direction from the professors there,” Skuld said.

            “Maybe I’ll give something like this a try. It looks like it would be a lot of fun. Oh, you mentioned something called ‘university.’ I haven’t heard of that before, what is it?” Meleoron asked.

            Shoot listened to the two others in the room go through a conversation about schooling. The subject matter itself was familiar. After all, even he and Knuckle had finished the equivalent to a high school education. Although, it did strike him as very strange that someone would get along so well with Meleoron after just first meeting him. Did that mean that Skuld had a connection to the Association? It would make sense considering her ability. But, Shoot was sure she wasn’t a pro hunter or a temp hunter. Where did that place her?

            More importantly, the nagging part of Shoot’s mind brought up, if Betony-san was finished with university then she was probably at least twenty-two. That was close to Knuckle’s age. Staring at his book against the sheets, he frowned.  

            Shoot bit his lip, looking towards the door out of the room. This sort of thing…he hadn’t thought about in a long, long time. Maybe the last time Shoot had given any non-Nen or Hunter related thoughts to a woman would have been over ten years ago when he was still in high school. Palm guessed right.

            In the end, he never did anything about the strange way that girl made him feel all of those years ago. After all, he knew that the common opinion of women was that he had a scary appearance, and was creepy. So why was he feeling suddenly isolated now of all times? Why did this make his stomach clench a decade after the fact?

            “Could I watch you draw something? I’d like to learn how to go about it,” Meleoron said.

            “Sure. What should I draw?” Skuld asked.

            “You should draw Shoot,” Meleoron suggested.

            “Alright. If you don’t mind, McMahon-san?” Skuld asked.

            Shoot felt some words catch in his throat.

            “Y-yeah. That’s fine,” he finally said.

            “Thank you. It would probably be best if you read, then, so you don’t get too bored from sitting still,” Skuld said.

            Shoot pulled his book from the bed, where it landed earlier. After he found the page he’d left off on, he heard the scratch of pencil on paper and couldn’t make himself look at the other two people in the room.

            “The first thing you do is a general layout—to get the shape and size of things and relationships between them. Then I usually begin laying in shapes of light and darkness. But, since I don’t have any charcoals with me, I’ll just mainly do the lines,” Skuld began.

            “What are those lines for?” Meleoron asked.

            “People in general have certain rules about what goes where. The eyes are usually in the very middle of the head, although the top section here is covered by hair. This helps me remember things like that a little. In drawing, most people measure proportions by ‘heads.’ If you take the height of just my head, my entire body is probably only a little above five-heads tall. People like Morel-san and McMahon-san have a larger number of ‘heads’ to their proportions,” Skuld continued.

            Shoot found himself reading the same three sentences over and over again. He wasn’t particularly interested in drawing, but the more and more he listened the more difficult it was to concentrate on his book. While he couldn’t remember being particularly good at drawing, a lot of the things Betony-san explained were a lot easier to understand than what he could remember being taught. Things like contrast and repetition made sense, as opposed to vague words about ‘feeling’ and ‘atmosphere.’ By the time Shoot read and re-read an entire page, Skuld spoke to him.

            “I’ve finished, McMahon-san,” Skuld said—turning her sketchbook around.

            While Shoot had expected something technically skilled, he was surprised at the drawing itself. The way Betony-san rendered the light from the window against the hospital bed sheets, and his face, was almost unfamiliar. Usually when Shoot looked in the mirror, he could understand why Morel criticized him for looking intimidating and unpleasant. But, how was it that Betony-san made those same features combine into a face that looked gentle and troubled in that drawing? Shoot whispered a vague comment about how the drawing was well done.

            “That’s the real Shoot alright, Skuld-san. He definitely has an aura of intelligence about him,” Meleoron said.

            “What do you do if you want to draw something that isn’t in front of you, though?” Meleoron asked.

            “Ah, with some things if you practice drawing them enough you sort of memorize how they are put together and how they move,” She said, turning a page.

            “I used to draw finches a lot, so I remember fairly well how they look,” Meleoron watched as Skuld drew a few shapes, and then laid in details of first a beak, then a head, and then wings, body, and tail of a small bird common in the area. After about another half-hour, Betony-san excused herself to the restroom and left her drawings behind. Flannel made a whining noise.

            “I’ll be right back,” Skuld said.

            Flannel made a displeased noise before seeming to fold against the table. Was that thing pouting, Shoot wondered? It looked like a pouting scarf for sure.

            “Shoot, you should really look at these,” Meleoron said, bringing over the sketchbook and handing it to Shoot.

            “It’s pretty amazing. Humans have the best ways of spending their time,” the Chimera Ant commented as Shoot carefully flipped through drawings of shiny-eyed birds, graceful fish, tender and fragile plants, and one of himself wreathed in light from the window.

            “They’re not just accurate. It’s like you can see these things as clearly alive. And she really drew you like she had known you for a long time. This definitely looks fun. I’m going to have to practice hard to get to this level soon,” Meleoron grinned, rubbing his hand against his chin.

            Then Shoot flipped to a different page, one with a four-panel comic.

            “Is that Skuld-san? There isn’t much detail, but somehow I can tell,” Meleoron asked, before looking over Shoot’s arm to read.

            “Oh, so you can tell a story like this as well. Some of the other ants liked these, but I hadn't given them much thought until now,” he commented. “It’s pretty amusing! I’m learning a lot of new things today.”

            “Yeah, you can buy books with a lot of these in them that have a long story. Manga magazines and collections are pretty popular. Knuckle likes them,” Shoot said.

            “Man, now I’ve got a whole list of things I want. I’ll ask Knuckle for some good recommendations. Ikalgo would probably like this sort of thing as well. Although, I bet Skuld-san would have different tastes. I’ll ask her, too, so I can see a large variety,” Meleoron said.

            It was a few minutes before Skuld re-entered Shoot’s hospital room. When she arrived, Knuckle had already returned. As Skuld entered the doorway, a flying piece of something white nearly clipped her head as Knuckle punched off Shoot’s leg cast in an explosion of plaster. White dust settled with a low hiss against the floor and furniture of the room. Shoot coughed, covering his mouth with his right hand.

            “There, now we don't hafta wait around anymore,” Knuckle grinned.

            From the table, Flannel made a few agitated warbling noises at Knuckle as he shook off plaster dust.

            “Even the scarf knows you can’t just do that!” Shoot scolded Knuckle.

            “Haaaaah? Don't give me that lip, Shoot. You let me do it just now,” Knuckle said.

 

* * *

 

 

            It was amazing how much the staff at Central Hospital put up with from the Hunter Association. The haggard-looking nurse who investigated Knuckle’s cast-punching destruction took in the scene and handed Shoot his discharge paperwork without even changing her expression. Before Shoot was done signing, Morel, Palm, and Ikalgo all found their way back to the room as well.

            Even though Skuld looked like she felt out of place, Morel managed to get her to tag along as well after everyone was done arguing about the restaurant. Shoot was relieved to hear that they managed to book a private room. Otherwise, the crowd might have been too much after the day’s previous excitement. His sandals felt unfamiliar for several minutes until he began getting the hang of walking again. His clothes, too, felt strange when he first changed into them. Knuckle picked up a fresh set for him a week earlier. Ah. But, Knuckle forgot the shoes and socks. Now he’d have to wear his sandels with the dark jeans and grey cotton T-shirt. Weird.

            His clothes looked strange in window reflections of the restaurants and stores they passed as well. How long had it been since he wore casual clothes?

            Flannel’s bright color caught Shoot’s eye as Betony-san put her jacket and Flannel on the wall hook. But, he averted his attention the moment he started noticing strange things again. Things like how long and slender Betony-san’s neck was. Or how her jacket and scarf had hidden the contrast between Betony-san’s trim waist and---Shoot cut off that train of thought as best he could. No. This had to stop. Again, Shoot pushed those strange thoughts out of his mind. Fucking hell, Palm. This was her fault. 

            “What the hell? I guess you are twenty-five after all. Too bad you’ll be a shrimp forever,” Knuckle said—apparently noticing Betony-san’s figure as well. Betony-san made a face, but didn’t say anything.  

            “Ya know, I heard that ya threw a stapler at Pariston a while back, and it stapled him in the face,” Knuckle grinned.

            “People are still talking about that?” Skuld frowned as she hung up her purse on a wall hook.

            “You did what?” Shoot turned around from his place at the table.

            “She stapled Pariston in the face!” Knuckle laughed.

            “I want to hear about this,” Palm said.

            “I just lost my temper and threw a stapler at him. I didn’t think it would open up like that,” Skuld said.

            “Lost your temper?” Palm’s tone of voice indicated she wasn’t pleased with the lack of details, and the taller woman began leaning over Skuld. 

            Skuld leaned back, an uneasy frown forming on her face.

            “Well, I was asked to re-organize a storage warehouse, and it was filled with curses and ghosts. It took a few weeks to work through. But, Pariston didn’t tell me about the curses or the ghosts, and I didn’t get any extra pay that week…just my normal wage. As it turned out, I was supposed to receive some sort of large danger-fee. When I found out he tricked me, I just lost it for a moment there,” Skuld explained.

            “No one did anything?” Shoot asked.

            “No one ever thinks anything of the administration staff. Most of us had been there for years, and I could pretty much go wherever I wanted, to be honest. I think everyone on that floor just assumed I was supposed to be there because I had some paperwork and a clipboard,” Skuld said, and then sighed.

“Morel-san and the chairman were there when I did it. But, they didn’t care. They just started laughing at Pariston and were still laughing when I left,” Skuld added. 

            “That’s a pretty serious security oversight,” Shoot said.

            “You’re missing the point,” Knuckle said, frowning and crossing his arms.

            “No, that is a pretty gaping security oversight. It’s actually pretty depressing that there is such a lapse within the organization,” Palm agreed.

            “Still, I’m disappointed that there isn’t a video. I’d really want to see that. I wonder if there is a video, and Beans just won’t show it. You could play that video and the one of Leorio punching Ging back to back forever and I’d never complain,” Palm sighed.

            Several of the hunters there agreed, and began talking about the election. Morel turned up a few minutes later, finally with permission to bring his giant pipe into the restaurant. When the crowd began to settle into a steady rowdiness, Skuld’s cell phone began ringing in her purse. She turned around and took her phone, peering at the screen. Her lips slid into a frown, and she pressed a green button on the touch-screen.

            “Can I help you with something?” She asked.

            At her side, Palm made a sour face and mouthed, ‘tell them to call back later,’ to Skuld. Skuld mouthed back ‘it’s my mother,’ to Palm.

            “Who the hell is that? Skuld get off the phone,” Knuckle yelled from across the table.

            “It’s her mother,” Palm said.

            “You better get your shit out of your apartment in twenty-four hours. I called the management and had you taken off the lease,” Skuld winced as the shrill voice on the other line cut over the rest of the noise in the room.

“That's my apartment, you can’t do that!” Skuld yelled into the phone.

            “Of course I can. No one would believe someone like you anyway, and I’m a respectable doctor. This is what you get for wasting my time and money on an education that you never deserved and never used,” The voice continued.

            “Why would you do this? Why did you call me to tell me this?”

            “Because you were useless from the moment you were born. I should have known you’d turn out to be such a colossal failure, and aborted you when I had the chance. Anyone would have died for the chance to be my child, but you just couldn’t be more unappreciative you ungrateful little shit!” The torrent of verbal abuse that poured out of Skuld’s phone was so extreme that everyone in the room stopped talking or eating and listened—some wide eyes.

            “You are nothing without me! You’d be in the gutter if it weren’t for me in the first place. So don’t act like you’ve earned any of that money from your joke of a job. You owe it to me, and it’s mine as reimbursement for bringing a miserable creature like you into the world. No one could ever love trash like you, so do the family a favor and kill yourself quickly so you will stop bringing shame upon us!” Skuld’s face grew progressively expressionless, to the point where she began resembling a doll as opposed to something alive.

            “Gimme that thing!” Morel reached across the table and grabbed the phone out of Skuld’s hand before yelling into it.

            “Listen lady, I don’t know who the fuck ya think you are, but ya have no right to say shit like that. Yer no mother, and ya got no right to call Skuld yer kid! Don’t ya dare call Skuld again, ya hear me ya miserable hag!” Morel yelled. The phone’s screen shattered and began smoking in response to the murderous aura steaming off of the Sea Hunter.

            Silence fell as the others in the room glanced in alternation between the eerily still Skuld and seething Morel.

            “Please excuse me for a minute,” Skuld said, nearly a whisper, before standing and leaving the room—leaving her jacket and purse behind. Flannel made a high pitched whine, snaking off the jacket hook and winding his way around Skuld’s neck and cocooning the lower half of her face as she passed.

            “Shit,” Morel dropped Skuld’s now useless cell phone onto the table.

            “Now I’m super pissed. I gotta go cool off. Someone go find her,” Morel said before grabbing his jacket and pipe and stomping out of the restaurant. Knuckle rose after a few seconds, and went in the same direction as Skuld. A heavy silence once again fell over the once merry room, only broken by Meleoron after several minutes.

            “Who the hell…who the hell could say things like that about their own child? That old bat must have lost it,” He choked out.

            “I think that Skuld-san’s mother was probably always this way,” Palm said with a somber expression. When Shoot shifted his gaze to meet Palm’s eyes, Palm continued.

            “A person who acts that way—to just seal up their feelings and hide their Nen so deeply on reflex—has been treated this way a long, long time. Skuld’s aura is quiet to begin with, and she doesn’t know a lot of basic techniques. But, that was fast zetsu. It would also explain why Skuld-san’s body is weak. That woman has been eating Skuld-san’s Nen, probably since before Skuld-san was born,” She said.

            “There are people like that?” Ikalgo asked. Shoot felt himself wondering the same thing.

            “Yeah. A lot of them end up as serial killers—feeding off of their victims as they die. But, there have been reports of parents like that doing the same thing to their children. But, most of the children end up beaten to death or starve before they grow up. It’s been a growing problem in the last twenty years or so,” Palm said.

            The conversation between Palm, Ikalgo, and Meleoron continued—even if it was quiet and slow. But, Shoot couldn’t bring himself to understand what had just happened. He didn’t know very much about Betony-san. But, he knew that she had helped him without hesitation, and had not expected any thanks. Probably, Shoot thought, it was better that Knuckle had gone after Betony-san. He wouldn't have known what to say or do, at all. And something about that irritated him more than the intrusive thoughts. 


	4. Obviously She Takes After Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Financially and Emotionally Abusive parents.

            Knuckle found Skuld sitting on the edge of a fountain close to the restaurant. As he walked closer, Knuckle realized that Skuld wasn’t just sitting. While she sat almost completely still there were tears in her eyes, and half of her face was still covered by a shifting Flannel. Flannel’s eye narrowed when Knuckle approached, but the Nen creature seemed to conclude that Knuckle meant no harm, and stopped fidgeting as much. Knuckle watched her for a few moments before she spoke.

            “I’m sorry. I thought I had it under control,” She said after a few minutes. It was muffled from Flannel. Knuckle clenched his fists, and then turned his back on Skuld.

            “I’m not lookin’. So if ya wanna cry, no one will ever know,” Knuckle said, tears already beginning to trickle over his own cheeks. While the sound of cars passing by and other people walking filled the evening, it still felt painfully quiet. Knuckle never heard a single sob from Skuld’s direction, but thought he did hear a small sniffle.  

She was crying. But, Knuckle had never seen someone cry without making a sound or moving before. There were only intermittent shakes from her back. Damn, it was like watching an abandoned kitten left in a box on the side of the road. What kind of a situation did someone have to grow up in that they learned to cry like that?

            “Don’t even think about that hag anymore. Don’t give her even one thought. She ain’t worth it,” Knuckle found himself saying, his own voice hitching.

            “I gave up on the idea of my mother loving me when I was a kid. But, I just thought that if I moved away and did everything on my own and didn’t bother her that maybe she might at least…leave me alone,” Skuld’s voice trailed off.

            Knuckle wiped at his tears with the sleeve of his jacket.

            “Come with us,” He said.

            “Just come with Shishou an’ Shoot an’ me, and we’ll be yer new family!” Knuckle shouted, “And don’t say any shit about inconveniencing us. Me ‘n Shoot’ll cause Shishou more trouble than you ever could! No matter what! You got that?” Knuckle’s voice got louder.

            “Would that really be alright?” Skuld asked after a few moments, but it didn’t sound like a real question. It sounded more like Skuld assumed that the answer would be ‘no’. Knuckle could barely make it out through Flannel.

            “Of course! Don’t joke with me! Of course it’s fine! There ain’t nothin’ wrong with ya. I know Shishou _wants_ ya to come with us, and Shoot would never say it but he won’t mind. And anyone that stapled Pariston is good in my book!” Knuckle yelled so loud that people across the street turned to look at him. Skuld looked at the side-walk, blinking more tears out of her eyes.

            “Yeah. Somewhere else sounds nice. At least for a little while,” Skuld said.

            “Ya don’t need to worry about anything that hag said to ya, never again!  Just rest for a while!” Knuckle couldn’t think of anything else to say at that point, and just began shouting things that Morel had told him when he had hit a rough spot when he was younger.

 

* * *

 

 

            By the time Morel returned to the restaurant, the room was noisy and rowdy again. A number of dishes were spread around the table, some half-eaten already. Mugs of alcohol were also at nearly every place setting, although Skuld’s glass was much smaller than the others.

            “Oi, I’m back,” Morel said. There was a small box in one of his hands.

            “No way, get that away from me. I don’t want it,” Skuld tried to angle her back towards Knuckle—who kept pushing mugs of beer towards her. Flannel, back on the jacket hook, kept making disapproving noises in Knuckle’s direction.

            “C’mon, c’mon! You’ve been drinking that one for an hour!” Knuckle continued.

            “You can’t ask someone my size to drink the way you do,” Skuld said.

            “Ohhh. You are rather petite,” Palm said, leaning over the table, “Hey, Shoot, Skuld-san, give me your hands for a second.”

            Palm pressed Shoot and Skuld’s palms together across the table. The tips of Skuld’s fingers could barely brush against Shoot’s first knuckle if Skuld stretched her hand, and the room erupted into laughter—aside from Shoot.

            “Are you sure you’re an adult, Skuld-san?” Meleoron laughed after nearly choking on his drink.

             “You’re just as small as Gon, but you’re twice his age!” Ikalgo laughed.

             “Some of us are just fated to be small,” Skuld said.

            “Yeah, if she tried to drink like you, she’d die for sure,” Palm concluded.

            “Oh, you’re back, Shishou!” Knuckle said.

            “Yep. I had to make a call to Knov, so we could get Skuld-chan’s belongings out of the apartment before someone else got there first. Oh, and I got a replacement for your cell, since I broke yours. It was an iPhone, right?” Morel said, tossing the box to Skuld, “Anyway, Skuld-chan, I know that I said you didn’t have to make a decision right away earlier but—” Knuckle cut-off Morel.

            “Skuld’s coming with us, Shishou. I convinced her earlier,” Knuckle said before taking a large drink of his beer.

            “Thank you, Morel-san. And I’m only coming if it’s all right. And only for a little while,” Skuld said, putting the box in her purse.

             “You’re welcome. And, don’t give me this ‘little while’ nonsense. It’d be great if you could stay with the rest of my team. I can’t keep these two idiots under control half the time, you’d be a great addition regardless,” Morel said, “I’ve got a place, and money isn’t a problem. Hell, Knov and I don’t know what to do with all of that shit. Think of it as back-pay for what Pariston short-changed you on, if you have to.”

             Morel watched as one of Shoot’s floating hands edged towards the beer Knuckle had just tried to convince Skuld to drink. Skuld also saw this out of the corner of her eye. Without a word, Skuld pushed the mug towards Shoot’s hand.

            “Good going, Knuckle. In that case,” Morel pulled a folded packet of paper out of his pocket, “How about I formally adopt you, Skuld-chan? I always wanted a daughter, you know!” he said.

            “I’m an adult, and I don’t need someone to look after me anymore,” Skuld said.

            “I know, I know. But, this way you’re legally protected, and you’ll always have somewhere to call home right?” Morel said.

            “Morel-san, quit messing around…”

            “Oi, I’m serious, Skuld-chan. You don’t have to change your name or nothing. You’ll even get your own room, no matter what. Shoot and Knuckle are impossible to spoil, and I don’t have any kids of my own. Plus, let’s be honest, neither of them is cute. Come on, eh?” Morel said.

Knuckle made a noise showing his offense, and Morel shouted back, “You are the opposite of cute, Knuckle! You’d never get to Skuld-chan’s level even if you had a hundred years!”

            Skuld opened her mouth to say something, but then closed it again. It was true that if she was officially adopted that her mother couldn’t bother her anymore—even after being disowned. She’d be better off legally, especially considering the Hunter Association’s lawyers. And then there was that feeling, so deep and hidden, the ache to belong somewhere and not just occasionally tolerated at a high price. Skuld was so tired. So tired of trying to figure out if she deserved nice things, so tired of trying to pretend that the pain was gone. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the fatigue of carrying her mother’s hatred for over twenty years. Or maybe it was the gentle void in her heart that her tears had vacated earlier.

            “Geeze, Morel-san. Don't try to bribe me with kid’s stuff. I could just rent my own apartment,” Skuld said, but held out her hand for the forms.

            “But, if you throw in a health insurance policy with dental…” Skuld’s voice trailed off.

            “Done!” Morel slammed the packet of paperwork down onto the table hard enough that some of the dishes seemed to jump.

“We’ll be staying at my old place—it’s way too big for just me but probably will fit four pretty comfortably,” Morel said. 

            Off to the side, Knuckle, Meleoron, and Ikalgo were already choking their way through tears and beer—Kncukle’s earlier offense already forgotten. Skuld skimmed the packet, then signed her name several times and handed the paperwork back to Morel.

            “Now that you’re going to be Shishou’s kid, I’m not sure what to call you,” Knuckle said.

            “Oh, I was just going to call you both ‘Bine-senpai and McMahon-senpai,” Skuld said.

            “Haaaaah?! That’s so formal! Don’t use my last name. Come on, we’re going to be comrades. Don't act like we’re strangers. I’ll call you ‘Skuld-kun,’ since you’re my kohai. You should call me onii-chan. I’ll watch out for you, since you’re a total shrimp. What about you, Shoot? What are you going to call her?” Knuckle asked, puffing out his chest at the idea of being a dependable older-brother type.

            Shoot was already most of the way through the beer he’d taken from Skuld, and had a clear red flush in his cheeks. He paused, and then set the mug down.

            “…Betony-san,” he said, looking off to the side and down at the ground.

            “Haaaaaaaaah?! You too?!” Shoot stood up and slammed his hands on the table several times, “What’s with the atmosphere of distance here? Get over your shyness already!” Knuckle began yelling.

            “Skuld-kun’s going to think you don’t like her if you act like that. Talk about formal. She’s your junior, you know! You never used such cold honorifics with me, even though we didn’t get along for a long time!” Knuckle continued, causing several dishes to nearly shake off the table.

            “How cold!” Knuckle yelled.

            “Knuckle…” Shoot slid his dark gaze over to the Beast Hunter, wanting to tell Knuckle to shut up but simultaneously wanting the attention to move to someone else. Should he say something, or avoid the spotlight?

            “Oh! Showing proper respect to your teacher’s kid, eh? Well, you don’t have to be so formal, Shoot. You and Knuckle are practically my children, too. I couldn’t be prouder of you two! Let’s just relax for a few days before getting back to training,” Morel laughed. “Oi, what is that in your glass, Skuld-chan?”

            “Bourbon,” she said.

            “Oh! Look at this. Skuld-chan has great taste in alcohol, too. Obviously she takes after me,” Morel laughed, and began calling for another round of drinks.

            “What else do you like to drink, Skuld-chan?” Morel asked.

            “Wine is alright. I prefer gin and St. Germain, and don’t really care for beer. Cocktails are my favorite, though,” Skuld said.

             “So mature,” Morel mimed wiping a tear from his eye.

              As the noise in the room continued to rise, Meleoron turned to Palm.

            “In a way, I’m reminded of Peggy and when I was human. Is it normal to adopt adults, though? ” He asked. Palm took a sip of her drink.

            “Not really. But, I can see why Morel would do it. His wife and kid died a long time ago. His real daughter probably would have been about Skuld-san’s age now if she had lived,” Palm said, “Knov said that’s why Morel can’t ignore the lonely and sad. After losing his own family, he can’t stand people who don’t know what they have.”

            “Morel, he’s pretty amazing,” Meleoron said.

            “Yeah, in his own way,” Palm agreed.

 

* * *

 

 

            “Oi, Shoot, are ya gonna be alright?” Knukle eyed Shoot across the table in the train car. Morel had reserved the entire car for the four of them. Aside from Skuld napping in a seat several rows away, and Morel talking on the phone, the entire car was empty.

            “Yeah,” Shoot tried not to wince. He lost count of how many drinks he had the previous night. Even with the water and painkillers, his head still pounded. How had he gotten back to the hotel, anyway? The last thing he remembered was discussing another book with Betony-san. But, that was fairly early in the night, wasn’t it? After that it was all a blank, until the alarm went off earlier in the morning. At least with the empty car, the entire scenario was much better than it could have been.  

            “Anyway, that’s all of the information that we have so far. Beans is going to send some records to Shishou when he has them pulled,” Knuckle said. Shoot made a soft noise, and looked out the window.

            “Don't have anything to say? What do you think about all of this, Shoot?” Knuckle asked.

            “Not really. We’re just going to go back to training. Nothing different from usual,” Shoot said.

            Knuckle stared at Shoot before frowning.

            “If you say so,” Knuckle said. “But, you and Skuld-kun seem to get along rather well, don’t ya?”

            “Not…particularly,” Shoot said, voice going quiet. Damnit, not you too, Knuckle.

            “That’s bullshit. You two were talking at the hospital and at the restaurant. You never do that,” Knuckle said.

            Shoot averted his eyes, continuing staring out the window.

            “It’s probably thanks to Gon,” Shoot replied.

            “Yeah. But, it’d be nice if the two of you got along,” Knuckle said. Shoot furrowed his brows—or would have if he had eyebrows. What did Knuckle mean by that?

            “Geeze. Don’t make that face at me. I mean she seems like a lonely person. Last night when she was crying she didn’t make a damn sound and barely moved. And, she kept apologizing to _me_ for crying in the first place. How fucked up is that? But, if you two have books or whatever in common, maybe you could be friends or something. I just don’t want her to feel alone. She’s definitely the type who won’t ask for stuff she needs,” Knuckle said.

            Part of Shoot couldn’t believe that Knuckle was asking for his help with this sort of thing. Weren’t Knuckle and Morel usually scolding him for acting anti-social? As if he knew what to do! That was asking too much, even if talking to Betony-san was far easier than he thought it would be.

            “What do you expect me to do? This isn’t exactly something I have a lot of experience with, you know,” Shoot said.

            “I don't know. Find out if you like the same kind of stuff for starters,” Knuckle said.

                Shoot turned to look out the window again, but Knuckle could tell he wasn’t taking in the scenery. Geeze. This guy. Knuckle frowned, irritation growing in quickening heartbeats and itchy hands. It seemed like the moment Shoot started changing, he took a few anxious steps back into the comfort of his own mental cage. But, Shoot and Skuld-kun had gotten along. Knuckle was sure Shoot had spoken more in the last twenty-four hours than he had in the last month. Of all people, Shoot had enjoyed a casual conversation with someone he didn’t know. It was practically a sign of the end times. So what the hell happened?

                Skuld-kun was fine until she was the center of attention, and then until her relative called.  But, that sort of thing was common in people who grew up in messed up families. Yeah. Skuld-kun’s problem was obvious. She was easily frightened and uncertain, like a puppy or cat just taken out of a crowded kennel. All she needed was time, and positive experiences with others in a good environment. Although, Skuld-kun did spook easily.

                A direct approach didn’t seem to work, given how she reacted to Morel. So the quietest of the three would have been best. The trouble was that now Shoot was acting the same as usual. Knuckle grit his teeth, crossed his arms, and leaned back in his seat. Fine. He could leave Shoot alone for the time being. But, Knuckle wasn’t going to let this go on in the long term.

                Hell, he could probably get Morel in on the plan to force those two to make friends with each other. Yeah, Shishou would definitely be on board with that. It was a hell of a lot better than just waiting for Shoot to get over his issues again. With that idea, Knuckle got out of his seat and moved forward in the train car to sit across from Morel.

                Shoot watched Knuckle go out of the corner of his eye. It was just like Knuckle to make things sound so simple. It was one thing for Shoot to learn to look his enemy in the eye. But, when faced with someone he wasn’t fighting, Shoot wasn’t sure what to think. One way or another, he got used to Knuckle over the years. Morel, too. Even so, he wasn’t sure to this day how that happened.

                Betony-san was different. Probably he’d never fight her, and he couldn’t picture what it would be like to be around someone like Betony-san for a long time. It made Shoot feel strange, but he couldn’t identify the sentiment. There was the idea that, probably, he was a little happy that Betony-san was joining them.

                In contrast to Morel and Knuckle, Betony-san definitely had similar tastes in literature to him. She seemed to pause and think about what she said before speaking, the complete opposite of Knuckle. Although, Knuckle’s story suggested Betony-san did have a temper. Shoot somehow doubted anything caused by Morel, Knuckle, or himself would be nearly as annoying as Pariston. There was fear, too. This was unknown territory. Shoot’s stomach hurt.

                Probably they would get along, like Knuckle said. But, the thought of ruining that kind of opportunity caught the words in Shoot’s throat and made his mind slow to a crawl when it didn’t make his mind race. At the same time, the idea of letting an opportunity like that pass Shoot by made him feel the same.

                Who could he ask about this? Certainly not Knuckle or Morel. They had already given him advice, and he didn’t understand it. Damn, the only other person whose number he had was that damned Palm.

                Shoot furrowed his brows and massaged his temples for a few minutes, struggling to force a solution. Wait. Palm was also a woman. She had to have some manner of insight into someone like Betony-san. After all of Palm’s talk about ‘A Maiden’s Heart’ she had to know something. Even if she was teasing, Palm also offered to help him out. So perhaps she wasn’t the worst choice. Shoot tapped out a text message to the other hunter, explaining his problem. He deleted the message and re-wrote it several times before sending the final draft. By the time Palm answered, Shoot’s hands were covered in sweat.

 

> //Palm: Probably, you should observe Skuld-san for a while.
> 
> //Palm: If you are all living in the same place, her hobbies and likes and dislikes will become apparent naturally.
> 
> //Shoot: Is that so?
> 
> //Palm: Yes. You already know she likes books. So you could speak with her about them for now.
> 
> //Palm: Probably, you should practice that sort of thing at first, since you don’t have much experience.
> 
> //Shoot: I don’t know how to go about that.
> 
> //Palm: Idiot! You already did at the hospital. Don’t over think it.
> 
> //Palm: Gather information about her. Then you will have other things to talk about.
> 
> //Palm: Becoming friends is pretty much just that.
> 
> //Palm: Don’t worry. I’ll keep this beginner level for you. Ask me anytime.

 

                Palm finished her message with a small, animated image of a thumbs-up. What the fuck was that? It moved, too. What the hell was this—no. Calm down. Shoot took a deep breath and re-focused on the content.

                Talking. He could do that? That was right, wasn’t it? He had spoken with Betony-san before, and rather at length. Knuckle said that Beans would send documents about Betony-san as well, so perhaps research was not a foregone solution to the situation. Probably, if he was careful, he could do this. Shoot thanked Palm before closing his eyes and trying to nap. To be honest, he felt awful. Hopefully food would come at some point and that would help out. Otherwise, all he could do was sleep and try to re-hydrate.

 

* * *

  


                Back in Central City, Palm Sibera grinned to herself and continued looking through her fashion magazine. Hell yeah. She was the best at making friends. Maybe she'd brag to Biscuit Krueger later about how much progress she was making. 


	5. Sometimes She Paid in Actions, Sometimes in Something Deeper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of the pre-written chapters from before July.

               Scowl growing, Knuckle waited for Morel to finish up his phone conversation. Just as his teacher was finishing up, Knuckle felt his own phone buzz. A message from Palm? That was weird. Not just weird, it was downright bizarre. Expecting something creepy about Knov or Gon, Knuckle scowled as he looked through the text message. Half-way through reading the forwarded exchange between Shoot and Palm, Knuckle’s eyes nearly budged out of his head. At the end, Palm added the note, ‘Don’t screw this up, you idiot!’

               In the end, Shoot was trying his best in his own way, wasn’t he? Crap, he couldn’t make a scene. Otherwise Shoot would definitely suspect something. That was a relief. Knuckle shoved his phone in front of Morel’s face. Morel stopped in mid-sentence as he read the messages on Knuckle’s phone, before saying his goodbyes and hanging up his own cell phone. He made a face at Knuckle as if to say, ‘is this real?’ before re-reading the exchange between Shoot and Palm.

               “He’s really grown up a lot in the past couple months,” Morel finally whispered.

              “Heh. He took my advice seriously. I might cry,” Knuckle whispered.

              “Don’t let him know we know! He’ll get pissed if he finds out, and then he’ll just give up,” Morel whispered back. 

 

* * *

 

            On the other end of the train compartment, Skuld Betony was in a place between sleep and something deeper than sleep. _What is the price?_ Skuld mentally inquired before hooded figures standing in rows so deep that the ones further back all melded together into one bright mass. Even now, they were so vibrantly green they almost glowed. She wasn’t sure where the featureless hood and what these things tried to masquerade as skin began or ended. Regardless, they were so green and alive it hurt.

              It didn’t matter if she conjured them in her mind or in the same room—the vibration of their being made her bones ache. For personal requests, it was better to do it this way. After all, this way no one could watch. The hooded figures seemed to vibrate at a different rate, their shapes blurring and stretching down as if sinking themselves into the dark or turning into smoke and spinning into the darkness above.

            Although change came with the ebb and flow of the tide and the shifting of the seasons, Skuld knew that if she was willing to pay the price that she could have it just a little sooner. The price always seemed to go up the more she wanted something, or the quicker she wanted it—but not depending on how long she was willing to wait.

              Sometimes Skuld paid in blood, or in the three feet of her hair she cut off. Sometimes Skuld paid in actions, or in something deeper.

              The last time Skuld asked them for help, they healed her vision. But, Skuld remembered, the price for that was to give up the way she looked at the young man who lived on the same college dormitory floor that she did. She gave them the affection she felt for him in return for her physical eyes. She gave them her rushing heartbeat. She gave them the way the room seemed to light up when he smiled. She gave them how his silly name was transformed into something not silly, just because it was his. All these things she gave up.

              But, more than the normal eyesight they offered the first time, Skuld wanted to give up her stagnancy. The question was how much it would cost for them to remove it. It was easier to learn the price of something before committing to it.

              The hooded figures wavered, like a vast sea of green wheat in the wind.  **_Give us_**. The air vibrated, and Skuld felt them pull something out of her chest. All of the empty darkness around Skuld erupted into a tangled ball of dark thorn bushes. The thorns grew larger. The vines grew longer. They expanded and writhed until Skuld was engulfed into the living shell they formed. **_You will give us your tower of thorns_**.

 _But this_ , Skuld thought. _No_. Skuld Betony knew she had to decide. Which was more important: her cocoon of thorns or change? The stagnancy, the ball of brambles, these things did not bring her happiness. But, change might.

              No sooner did Skuld think, ‘ _take it_ ,’ than all that she had grown was sucked away in the blink of an eye. Then, the hooded figures also faded from Skuld’s consciousness. The young woman placed a hand in the space between her heart and her stomach and thought, _Even here it already hurts_. Her thoughts went quiet for a few moments. _Wow. It really, really hurts—feeling this empty. I had forgotten_ , she thought.

            The next time Skuld woke up, she rubbed at her eyes as Morel and Knuckle said something about food. Morel set four large boxed lunch sets onto the table between the row just across. Knuckle fell into the seat next to Skuld, pulling one of the boxed lunches closer to himself. Morel turned around.

            “Hurry it up, Shoot. You know I can’t fit into a window seat,” Morel said.

            Ah, now that Skuld could see Morel in a train, she did have to admit that he likely couldn’t fit in a window seat. Perhaps if he were to somehow fold himself several times, but then he probably wouldn’t be able to eat lunch. That definitely seemed like a problem only large, tall people had. If she had to say, Skuld would think Knuckle was definitely on the edge of able to fit into smaller seats. He had that typical burly build of a hunter, but wasn’t quite as tall as Morel.

              Shoot, on the other hand, probably could have fit in a seat width-wise with less trouble. He was still muscular, but wasn’t quite as broad as Knuckle. Although, Shoot would definitely struggle with the legroom problem. Good thing Morel had reserved a car in business class. Otherwise, she probably would have been the only person comfortable there.

              Shoot definitely looked uncomfortable as he squeezed into the seat across from Skuld, the young woman thought. He could also be hung-over. Probably both. His eyes looked a little red, and there were dark circles underneath them. His hair also looked messier than the previous day, even though he had been in the hospital.

              How many drinks did he have? Skuld wasn’t sure how many. Shoot seemed to just take the ones that Knuckle tried to make her drink. Even Skuld felt like dying at the end of the night after the drinks Palm kept buying her, and ended up staying in a hotel close to the restaurant. That…that must have been after she and Palm started talking about the ridiculous dating sims they both played. There was the one where all the bachelors were birds of some sort, and the other where they were desserts brought to life. Geeze. What an embarrassing thing to talk about in front of people she had just met that day.

              In the end, hadn’t Palm half-carry her to that hotel?

              She couldn’t go back to her apartment, since Morel and one of his friends ended up packing up most of her things into some sort of extra-dimensional space after Skuld told them the address. Skuld remembered saying—or at least _trying_ to say—something about thinking with portals. Yes, that was about when Knuckle literally dragged Shoot back to the Hotel rooms Morel had for the three of them. Yeah. Shoot was definitely hung over. Skuld never could seem to consume enough alcohol to end up hung over the next day before her poor tolerance caused her to fall asleep.

              Morel squeezed himself into the isle seat across from Knuckle, his struggle to fit in the seat obvious as the others began opening their boxed lunches. Still rubbing at her eyes, Skuld opened the top of her box and paused. That was a lot of food. Grilled fish, grilled chicken, potato salad, green leafy salad, fruit salad, bread…it went on and on in portion sizes that were even ridiculous for Sahelta. After the previous night, Skuld definitely felt like she could eat more than normal. Expecting her to eat all of that was not realistic, though. Probably only men the size of Morel could finish everything in their box.

              The Sea Hunter watched the other three eat as they all talked. As always, Knuckle was a quick, rather messy eater. He licked his lips, and took bigger bites than was good sense. Shoot was a slower, neater eater, but usually ended up eating just as much as Knuckle. Skuld took pauses, and ate with her knife in her right hand and fork in her left—like was popular in Ochima. She took pauses after every few bites, looking thoughtful. All in all, Skuld ended up eating maybe a third of each dish when Shoot, himself, and Knuckle finished theirs.

              Morel thought about scolding her for dieting, but remembered at the last moment that Skuld ate like a normal person—not like the other Hunters who expended huge amounts of energy every day. Morel wasn’t an expert on things like nutrition, and couldn’t decide if Skuld ate a small amount for a non-combat Nen user or if it was adequate because she was smaller than average. Geeze. Now Morel was getting a headache. There were too many things to consider, and he was unfamiliar with all of them.

              Maybe he should call Biscuit Kreuger about this after all. The Gem Hunter had plenty of experience training apprentices both male and female alike, so she would probably have a better idea than Morel regarding proper food intake. At least he didn’t have to worry about dealing with another apprentice during their teenage years. He had enough trouble with Knuckle’s rebellious phase, and managed to avoid what he assumed was the worst of Shoot’s teenage years. Morel never wanted to repeat that mess if he could help it.

              Oh, Skuld ate all of the fruit, and most of the vegetables. Morel noticed. Good. Then he wouldn't have to try to force her to eat them like he had to do with Knuckle. Or was that a woman thing? There was too much for Morel to over-complicate.

              “By the way, I know that I met you during your senior year. But, where did you go to college, Skuld-chan?” Morel asked.

              “Do-dai,” Skuld said.

              There was a short pause.

              “You did not go to do-dai. No one actually goes to do-dai,” Knuckle said.

              “I did,” Skuld said.

              “Prove it,” Knuckle smirked.

              Skuld retrieved her purse from the overhead storage and pulled out a plastic university identification card, then handed it to Knuckle. Knuckle took a few moments to examine it, before scowling and staring at the card and making an unhappy growling noise and hanging his head before saying, “it’s real,” and handing it across the table to Morel—who was already reaching across to grab for it.

              “Ooh! You used to wear glasses! How cute! How cute! Look, Shoot. Skuld was the glasses-wearing seito-kaicho type!” Morel exclaimed.

              Shoot frowned, but silently accepted and looked over the photo ID that Morel put in front of his face. The Skuld in that photo was recognizable, but the difference between the photo and the person Shoot saw in the train car was extreme. Skuld’s face was definitely thinner in the photo, and her hair was much longer—longer than his—and styled in old-fashioned hime cut. That haircut and the horn rim glasses Skuld work back then definitely gave her a very stern, traditional image. She definitely looked like the responsible type, Shoot thought. The tall hunter could definitely imagine Skuld in a high-class school uniform with that image. It fit perfectly—just as perfectly Shoot could imagine Knuckle breaking school uniform dress code with his old-fashioned punk getup.

              “Are you going to eat that or what?” Knuckle asked, one elbow on the table and hand cupping his face as he stared at what was left in Skuld’s lunch box.

              “I’m already full. Do you want it?” Skuld asked.

              “Are you on a diet or some shit?” Knuckle asked.

              “No,” Skuld made a face that made it look like she was thinking of something unpleasant. Knuckle narrowed his eyes at Skuld before sliding the rest of her lunch box over and beginning to eat what was left. Both Morel and Shoot knew that face. Knuckle would keep an eye on her, probably watching for unusual eating habits.

 _They’ve taken her in already_ , Shoot thought, _like she’s a stray cat_. _And,_ _Do-dai. Wasn’t that university for the elite of the elite_?  Shoot wondered. He remembered hearing that name from someone else, but couldn’t place who or what was spoken about. That was certainly a good starting point for research. Do-dai’s records would be accessible to anyone with a Hunter’s license. Although Shoot was tempted to start looking right away, he had the feeling that Morel or Knuckle would definitely say something if they caught a glance at his phone screen.

              Yes. One of them or both would say something, and then Shoot would get that urge to hide. There was no telling if he’d keep his courage if they called him out like that. Was there a chance that they’d call him out in front of Betony-san? Shoot glanced at Knuckle. Knuckle, he already knew that Shoot wanted to get along with Betony-san and said as much earlier. Even if Shoot thought he’d told a pretty convincing lie, Knuckle knew him well enough to see through it right away. How troublesome.

              The rest of the day, Shoot kept an eye on Knuckle. If Knuckle was going to say something, Shoot hoped he could stop the Beast Hunter before he got too far. In the end, Knuckle never said anything to embarrass Shoot. But, hell. Spending the entire day vigilant for such an occasion left Shoot sweaty and exhausted. A full day on the bullet-train line, and then numerous switches in the evening, and Shoot couldn’t remember any of what the other three had discussed in their chats. Geeze. Wasn’t he supposed to be gathering information? Maybe later, he thought. Definitely later.

            Late in the evening, the last leg of the journey was by truck from the train station of a medium-sized fishing town that had gone modern in the last few decades. There was a glittering crowd of clothing stores a few miles from an old market made of wooden stalls. A handful of old fashioned food stalls still lit up at night, and Shoot thought he saw old shrines—preserved and built around instead of demolished.

            The truck stopped within sight of a two-story home with a brick and wood exterior up on a hill at the edge of a forest. There was a brick path leading up to it from the road, surrounded by swaying wildflowers.

            Knuckle, Shoot, and Morel all climbed out of the back of the truck, Knuckle eyed the picturesque house with suspicion. Skuld hopped out of the back.

            “This is yours, shishou?” he asked.

            “Yeah. It’s for me, and my family. Naturally, I get the biggest room. Skuld-chan gets the upstairs room. Knuckle, you and Shoot each get your own room downstairs,” Morel said.

            “How come Skuld-kun gets the upstairs?” Knuckle cocked his head at an angle. Morel adjusted his sunglasses, causing them to gleam in the sunlight for a moment.

            “Because, otherwise one of _you two_ will end up sharing a bathroom with her. Which one of you two wants to come out and say they want to share a bathroom with their _teacher’s_ precious _daughter?_ ” Morel leaned over, his lip curling upwards—close enough to Knuckle’s face that Knuckle’s pompadour bent against Morel’s forehead.

            Knuckle made a choking sound, a few beads of sweat visible on his face as he stared at Morel’s eyes. The Beast Hunter pressed further, causing his hair to bend up even further. His eyebrows shot together and he started yelling.

            “Don’t say that shit ta me like I’m some kinda weirdo who’d wanna share a bathroom with his little sister! That’s beyond gross! You’re a gross old man for even thinking that!” Knuckle spat.

            “I’m not related to either of you,” Skuld called, slinging her purse strap over her shoulder and walking up the brick path. From his position around Skuld’s neck, Flannel made a few high-pitched buzzing noises towards the bickering Hunters. Knuckle and Morel continued shouting. Skuld wasn’t certain they could even hear her.


	6. Does This Mean We Get Cake?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: mention of abusive parents.

            “This is…” Skuld stared at the pile of boxes and furniture stacked in the upstairs bedroom.

            “Wow. This is everything.  I forgot how much there was. I hope it wasn’t a huge inconvenience?” Skuld ran a hand through her hair, edging her way around boxes stacked two or three high. The room was suffocating. Skuld owned a twin-sized futon and frame that folded into a small seat, a desk, a single chair, a few folding tables, and little else in the way of furniture. However, a single bedroom apartment was condensed into that single room.

            “I’ll probably have to get rid of a bunch of this stuff,” the young woman considered out loud.

            “Why? There’s barely even any furniture here. Just put all of your books in the big room downstairs. That’s where all the books are going. Computers and stuff go in the spare room on this floor. Put all of that sewing stuff there, too,” Morel said, peering inside the room.

            Geez. Talk about typical Knov. There wasn’t a single space large enough to accommodate any of the three Hunters so that they could enter the room. That skinny guy never thought about the size problems others had, Morel grumbled internally. At the same time, Morel couldn’t help but worry. Knov had barely exchanged so much as a handful of texts after the events earlier that year. Honestly, he had hoped that Knov would have stuck around to scold him for using him as an errand boy. But, that guy never said a thing.

            Maybe he’d need to talk to Knov about seeking some sort of therapy or help. Something.

            “Don’t worry about it, Morel-san. I can probably figure it out,” Skuld replied. Maybe if she vaulted the bed and stored some of her things underneath?

            “Oi. Listen when your dad’s talking! It’s fine. It’s fine. Put the books downstairs, and all of that sewing stuff in the spare room. You have to keep work out of the room you sleep in, or you’ll get insomnia and ruin your health. Oh. Or I could turn the garage into a studio for all of this crafting stuff. How about that?” Morel asked.

            “What about cars?” Skuld asked.

            “Skuld-chan, do you really think I could fit in the driver’s seat of a normal car? Shoot passed the exam, but never ended up using his license. Knuckle never got his. None of us own cars,” Morel replied.

            There went that excuse. There was only so much Skuld could handle before falling back on her old fear of taking up too much space, of using more than she could give back. The emotions flooded in. Frustration. Anxiety. For half a second, Skuld felt as if the stacked boxes were closing in around her.

            No. Deep breaths. Calm down. She lied to herself and repeated that it would be fine. Fake it until you make it.

            “Alright. Just let me move these to start, then. I don’t think anyone else can fit in here. I’ll try to shift things around a bit, and mark the boxes going to the garage and downstairs,” Skuld said, and then disappeared into the pile of cardboard.

            Several minutes passed, Morel feeling increasing uncertainty over whether or not he should just be _standing_ outside that room. Knuckle and Shoot barely had anything with them, and didn’t need his help. Then, a shuffle. A small box slid to the front, marked ‘books.’ Morel reached forward and picked it up in one hand. He could hear Skuld opening boxes, then closing them. Then, the pop of a marker cap. Soon, Skuld pushed another box into view. More books.

            It was slow progress. After each trip down stairs, Morel found himself wondering if Skuld planned on taking a break, or if she had changed her mind. Was there a possibility that she’d just stay in there, surrounded by boxes? Sometimes he could hear her moving around. Sometimes he couldn’t hear her at all. It was like a little private cave in there, wasn’t it?

No one else could fit inside, and so there was nothing to do about it except wait and assume that eventually Skuld could open the hole wide enough for a larger box to exit. Morel could only wait for the hole to expand enough to let someone else in the room, and he’d have to wait for it to happen at Skuld’s pace.

            Morel made three trips for book boxes until the first ‘crafts’ box appeared. At that point, Knuckle appeared at the top of the stares and paused. Was Morel seriously just standing there, looking at a wall of boxes?

            “What are you doing?” Knuckle asked.

            Knuckle got his answer when the box slid into view and Morel picked it up. Knuckle sighed and shook his head. The Beast Hunter walked over to the blocked doorway and picked up one of the boxes blocking the view into the room. He set it down against the hallway wall.

            “I’m moving some of these out here to make more room,” Knuckle said.

            Was that all right? Knuckle wasn’t looking into the boxes, and Skuld would eventually decide where they went and what to do about them. But, was it all right to interfere like that?

            As Knuckle grabbed a large box and slid it off the top of another, he could finally see into the room. He could even see the floor. Skuld, struggling to hug a large box off the floor stared with a blank expression at Knuckle for a moment before passing the box to him.

            “Kitchen,” she said. The box’s contents clattered.

            “What?” Morel tried to stick his head as far into the room as he could.

            “Kitchen!” Knuckle said, shooing Morel away from his path with mock kicks.

            “Kitchen?” Morel’s expression betrayed his confusion.

            “Kitchen,” Skuld repeated, pushing another large box into Morel’s view before disappearing back into the room.

            Morel picked up this box with one hand, like the others. Although, Skuld could have fit inside of it if she curled up. With his other hand, the Sea Hunter pulled open the top and peered inside.

            Who could have guessed cake pans came in so many shapes? At least, Morel assumed they were for cake. No point in baking anything else in fancy shapes. There was a rectangle, circles in various sizes, some kind of circle with a hole in the middle, and a mess of others that Morel couldn’t identify.

            Another line of thought trickled through the tall Hunter’s mind. Skuld owned at least six different cake pans, which meant that she made enough cake to warrant at least six different cake pans. Did that mean she also cooked? Shoot seemed content with eating instant food, or meal replacement bars, so of course he didn’t cook. Morel and Knuckle tried, but neither of them seemed to have the delicacy for it.  Morel gave up the last time he set the kitchen on fire, when Knuckle was still a teenager. Knuckle kept trying. Still, Morel preferred to eat at restaurants than deal with the whole mess.

            But, wait. If Skuld ended up doing the cooking, it would probably look like Morel was making her do it just because she was a girl. That would get him skinned alive at the next Hunter Association meeting, aside from the fact that he couldn’t comprehend _making_ Skuld do the cooking. How could he explain that he just wanted to eat food that was made by someone competent? Before the incident with the Chimera Ants, Knov got to eat home-cooked meals all the time. What the hell was Knov going to do now? Morel felt like he might deflate under the growing list of things to worry about.

            “Oi, Shishou, did you know Skuld-kun has five cake pans?” Knuckle asked as he made his way back up to the second floor.

            “What?” Morel shook his worries out of his mind.

            “There’s one shaped like a Rose in that box I just took to the kitchen. What’s in that box?” Knuckle asked.

            “At least six cake pans,” Morel said.

            Knuckle peered inside the box, dubious that Skuld could possibly own at least eleven different cake pans.

            “Does this mean we get cake?” Knuckle asked, almost to himself.

            “Kitchen,” Skuld called from her room once more, pushing another large box into view.

            It turned out that a sizable portion of Skuld’s belongings went to the kitchen, a rice-cooker, several skillets, a stew-pot and steamer set, and a small roasting pan were amongst them. Skuld also sent three cookbooks and a binder to the kitchen, along with everything else. Thus, Morel’s question was answered before he asked it.

            After all the kitchen supplies were moved to the kitchen, the books and crafting supplies moved out within an hour. The only casualty was Skuld’s desk, which could not handle the weight of all the boxes Knuckle stacked on top of it to clear space to move the futon frame. Staring at the splintered particleboard pieces, Morel shrugged. He picked up the pieces and tucked them all under one arm.

            “You need better furniture, anyway. We’ll drop by the department store tomorrow, and you can pick out anything you like. Get a nice, new bed frame and a fancy mattress. You’re small enough to fit on a standard size, after all. You won’t need a custom order or anything like the rest of us,” Morel said.

            The Deep Sea Hunter watched the small woman make _that damn face_. It was the one she made when he first suggested she join his team. It was the one Skuld made when she didn’t think she should get a gift, or get invited to something. Even within two days, it was soon becoming Morel’s least favorite expression. But, what could he say about it? Nothing. Nothing seemed like it would be all right to say. So he remained quiet, clenching his jaw.

            “I’m going to check on Knuckle and Shoot,” the hunter finally said, leaving the room with the splintered remains of Skuld’s desk under his arm.

 

            Most of Knuckle and Shoot’s belongings were kept in storage lockers at the Hunter Association while they worked. There was little point in getting tied down with an apartment when Morel kept them moving around the world every other week. At the same time, Shoot’s book collection kept growing, and he rarely managed to part with one after he bought it. There was even a sad pile of ‘rejected’ books in Shoot’s storage locker dedicated to the books he disliked but could not get rid of. Neither owned any furniture, since they were used to moving from hotel to hotel or sleeping outside most of the time. 

            Each of them having a room of their own was a bit of an unimaginable luxury. If either was honest, they weren’t sure what to _do_ with their own space. Neither had to worry about offending the other in a shared inn space. If anything, the freedom was overwhelming. There were too many options, and neither had much experience in tailoring a room to their own taste.

            Shoot idly thought back to the room he’d used when he was younger, before the incident that took his left arm. He wasn’t good at asking for anything back then, either, now that he thought about it. If he were pressed, he’d have to say that none of it was really to his liking. But, there was no point in being ungrateful for something he received from his parents. As long as it served its purpose, it was fine. Even then, his bedroom walls were blank.

Ah, he really couldn't remember what a lot of it looked like, only that his childhood room also had a window overlooking the front. He could hear others talking outside as they walked past on the street. Sometimes he had imagined what he might have said if he were there with them.

            The UMA hunter did agree with Morel that keeping work out of the bedroom was probably for the best. Shoot had trouble with insomnia from time to time, and a desk with paperwork on it or a laptop seemed to make it worse. So that was one thing—he’d avoid getting a desk in his room at all. Right hand on his chin, Shoot tried to think of something he could mention if Morel or Shoot asked. They’d give him no end of shit if he said ‘anything was fine.’

            That was another thing he didn’t want to get involved with right from the start, especially since there was no impending work that could get Morel and Knuckle’s focus off of him. Decorations were out as well. Even if he racked his brain, he couldn’t even come up with a concept of the sort of decoration he might find pleasing.

            A bed he could really spread out on, he finally settled on. It had been years since the UMA hunter hadn’t felt cramped while sleeping, and that was one thing he could mentally confirm actual desire for. After that, a long sheet set that his feet and shins wouldn’t poke out from. A good start. Knuckle ended up saying he wanted the room with the window facing the back—so he could hear the birds and insects better in the summer. At least that got rid of one scenario where Shoot might have had to express a preference.

            “Doing alright in there?” Morel stuck his head into Shoot’s room, a pile of low-quality wood under one arm. Shoot eyed the pieces of wood before replying.

            “Yes.”

            “I’m making an order with that custom mattress and bed-frame place. You still 6’9’’ or so?” Morel asked.

            Shoot had to pause before nodding.

            “Alright. I’ll call that in after I find Knuckle and take care of this,” Morel replied.

            As it turned out, Morel had worked out an entire itinerary planned for his apprentices: dinner out, then a trip to get the barest necessities later that day. The next day, Morel planned for a trip into town to the department store for everything that didn’t need to be custom-made.

 

            Even in casual clothing, Morel’s group stuck out almost painfully when they went into town for dinner. The Deep Sea Hunter left his giant pipe at home and wore his usual dark grey button-down shirt, red tie, and black pants, but was easily taller than the average person by a foot and then some. Shoot and Knuckle were also uncommonly tall, but not quite to the same extent. Although Shoot tried to hide himself in a drab grey shirt and jeans, his angular build and height gained him almost as much attention as his sharp features and multiple ear piercings. The UMA hunter walked on the right side of the group, as if that would hide his empty left sleeve.

            Knuckle didn’t even bother trying to look normal. The shortest of the three hunters left the house in full old-fashioned delinquent regalia. If anything, he had taken more care with his pompadour than normal.

            Skuld, who would not have looked out of place otherwise, only did so because of the extreme contrast between herself and the rest of the team. Amongst the solid neutrals and exaggerated examples of near comic-book level masculinity Morel and his two oldest apprentices, she stuck out.

            The four of them managed to squeeze into a round booth meant for eight, Morel scowling and eyeing the hanging light above the table as the menus made their way around the table. When the waitress arrived, she spoke about the specials on the menu that day. Her skin was warm and dark, with a scattering of barely-visible freckles over her nose and cheeks. As she made eye contact with each person at the table, she paused when she looked at Skuld.

            “Betony-senpai?” The waitress hesitated, the syllables falling from her lips in almost a whisper. Skuld also paused, several seconds passing before recognition lit up her expression.

            “Lily? From Circle City Academy?” Skuld asked.

            “Yes! I can’t believe it! It’s been nearly a decade since I last saw you. Are you visiting? I’m part-timing here while I work on my thesis,” the waitress said, her expression softening.

            “Ah, no. I’ll be living here for little while,” Skuld answered.

            The chatter between the two women did not last long. Lily took their orders, and then Skuld excused herself to the restroom. Lily frowned, looking thoughtful with the menus under her arm.

            “Ah, you know Skuld-chan from high school? My name is Morel—I’m Skuld-chan’s new dad,” The Deep Sea Hunter extended one giant hand to Lily.

            “She’s not in that house anymore?” Lily’s lips pinched into a thin frown.

            “That house?” Morel fished for clarification.

            “She never directly said it—but I’m sure her home life was messed up. We went to a boarding school and she…she never went home. Never got any packages from her parents, either. Whenever the Betonys called senpai, they always sounded so angry. Her mother visited once and…and she really scared me. Something wasn’t right about that woman,” Lily’s words took on an angry edge, but otherwise remained quiet.

            “Shishou adopted her, Skuld-kun ain’t going back to that shitty hag ever again,” Knuckle said.

            “That’s great. That’s just so great,” Lily repeated to herself, like a prayer.

            “And you three are?” she tilted her head to one side.

            “Hunters, actually,” Knuckle grinned.

            “Hah!” Lily grinned, “I always figured senpai would get mixed up with people like you one day. If you ever want to hear stories about senpai, I’d be glad to tell you a few. You’ll probably never hear them from her,” Lily said before heading towards the kitchen with their order.


	7. Apparently Her Power Wasn't Mind Reading

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Implication of negligent parents/abusive parents.

            “I don’t know what half of this even is,” Morel peered down at a display of shower products. Two in one? Three in one? Two and three of what, exactly, and why did they have to be mixed together in the first place? It was like putting steak and potatoes in a blender together and saying it was better than the two separate on the same plate. Damnit, he just used whatever was in the little bottles in the hotel.

            Knuckle had a pile of _products_ in his cart that Morel didn’t understand aside from the fact that they seemed necessary to keep Knuckle’s hair in its usual gravity-defying shape. Shoot used the same items his parents had bought for him when he was a kid, and never bothered to consider an alternative. Or maybe Shoot was in the same place Morel was and went with the only familiar container in a wall of options? Morel couldn’t fault him for that.

            He would have asked Skuld, but she was in another store activating her new cell phone. All of her toiletries were back at the house, since they were packed with her other belongings. She was probably careful about what she used, the type that examined the ingredients list online, Morel thought. Bisky was also that type, and went into an uproar once during a conference when her favorite product went out of production. Lavender Rose something or other. Might not have even been those, but those were two flowers Morel knew the names of. Decent try.   

            Screw it. Morel visually picked blue, and swatted the line of products in the ‘blue’ option into his cart. There. Good enough. He’d just have to ask someone later. Maybe Knov. Yes. That would give him an excuse to check up on Knov. Perfect. Solid decision-making process.

            The problem was clothing. All three of the hunters had trouble finding clothing that actually fit them properly, due to the fact that they were all considerably taller and brawnier than the norm. Knov had introduced Morel to a tailor shop who specialized in a hunter clientele. But, any order that Morel placed would take a while to arrive. Shipments of their clothes from the storage units would take a few days, even with the extra pay for expedited shipping. It wouldn’t have been such a big deal if they were out on a mission. In those conditions, none of them expected to live in comfort. But, just sitting around the house all day would make Morel antsy, even if it didn’t make the others. At least they could find fitting underwear, if nothing else.

            “You two got everything?” Morel grumbled in the general direction of his apprentices.

            “More or less,” Knuckle tapped at his cell phone with one hand, pushing his cart into the same aisle. 

            “You should upgrade that thing, you and Shoot both,” Morel commented.

            “It’s fine, alright? If you see Skuld-kun before me, tell her that Palm wants to exchange phone numbers with her,” Knuckle said.

            “Come to think of it, we should all get Skuld-chan’s number, too. She seems like the type who always has her phone on her,” Morel said, and then added, “You got everything you need, Shoot?”

            “Yes,” Shoot said, his purchases already paid for, bagged, and in arm, near the door.

            “Remember a towel?” Morel yelled across the room.

            “Yes.”

            “Toothbrush?”  
            “Yes.”

            Shaving shit?”

            “Yes…”

            “What—”

            “Shishou, please…” Shoot’s gaze fell to the floor, immediately uncomfortable and paranoid that other customers in the store would stare at him.

            “Fine. Fine. Just hang out until we’re done. Shouldn’t take long,” Morel yelled back, shit-eating grin on his face, as he and Knuckle moved towards the checkout.

            Shoot peered around the entrance of the store, confirming that Morel and Knuckle weren’t paying attention to him before taking out his phone. He couldn’t access all of the Hunter Association records on mobile, but he could at least start a search for relevant information.

            Do-Dai: average undergraduate class of 6,000, boasting an acceptance rate of less than half a percentage of applicants. The student body was composed of geniuses, and genius scions of the wealthy, powerful and both the wealthy and powerful. According to the Hunter Association’s data, Do-Dai churned out notable experts in nearly every field—including more than a few Nen Geniuses of its own each year. Most recent examples included a painter and composer.

            It was a private university with a huge budget. Student groups alone commanded nearly three hundred million Jenny…that was outrageous. There was a wealth of reviews and pictures full of trophies on each student group page. Even the ‘casual’ clubs seemed to be involved with award-winning projects of some kind. These students, they were in an entirely different world weren’t they? It was almost like the divide between normal people and Hunters. This was the difference between ‘classes’ of people, wasn’t it? These were the people who hired hunters, the sort of people who made world-changing progress on a regular basis.

            Most hunters came from a very different world than the people who could attend Do-Dai. Wouldn’t it be true that they would not have become hunters if they were part of that far-away elite? A separate world entirely.

            Shoot paused, thumb above a button on the phone. Did that mean Betony-san was further away from his world, or closer? Other people in general seemed a world away by themselves—although it was almost like Shoot could touch them now. Even through the bars of his mental paralysis, probably, he could touch them through the bars.

            Ah. But, there was that one side-effect. After nearly three decades of isolation, even the smallest piece of warmth from someone else seemed like it might burn him. After so long, Shoot wasn’t sure he could remember if flinched away from his family as he did now when he was younger. Most likely, he was used to that level of warmth at the time. So, was he worse now when it came to handling others? Undoubtedly. He still emotionally flinched away from Knuckle, from Morel. The level of warmth they thrived upon seemed like it was so hot it would burn Shoot.

            And as long as someone was already at least one world away from him, he had never bothered to consider how close they might be in relation to others. So, just how far away was someone like Betony-san? Maybe too far for someone like him to reach, Shoot thought.

            “Sorry for the wait,” the voice threw Shoot off of his train of thought. He looked down, seeing Skuld to his left. When did she get there? Knuckle said she was a Nen user, so he should have sensed her. Was he just that out of it? How embarrassing. Knuckle and Morel would lecture him about that if they ever found out for sure, even though Knuckle was the one who most often got chastised for not paying attention.

            “Ah. Was the line long?” Shoot asked, making a mental note to be more vigilant.

            “No. But, there was someone who wanted a free phone even though they had dropped it in water and voided the warranty,” Skuld sighed.

            “Aren’t there little…strips inside to detect moisture?” Shoot had to pause to think of the name.

            “Yes. And they wanted a new phone anyway. Called out two managers and complained for fifteen minutes. They might even still be there,” Skuld said.

            Shoot made a face, not sure if he knew of any choice phrases for annoyances like that which wouldn’t make him sound like a delinquent or thug.

            “It’s just such a huge inconvenience for the workers there, too. Retail work is harsh, and most of the shop staff can’t really tell customers like that to leave or be impolite in anyway. Or the staff will get trouble for it,” Skuld’s brows were furrowed. That didn’t sound like something Shoot would have expected from an ojou-san of the elite.

            The UMA hunter considered saying something to continue the conversation several times, to the point of nearly opening his mouth before swallowing his words. Each time, he ended up rejecting the idea. Silence stretched on, feeling longer to Shoot than it actually was. His palm grew sweaty against phone. Suddenly dreading Betony-san, Morel, or Knuckle seeing his screen, he pocketed it. But, now there was nothing to do in that quiet. Shit.

            “I think…sometimes people forget that workers and staff are also people. They might only see the uniform, or a figure behind the counter. And they forget their own capacity to cause pain. I don’t…I don’t think a lot of people want to accept responsibility for that sort of thing,” Skuld said. Shoot nearly jumped as her voice startled him out of his thoughts.

            That was almost too familiar for Shoot’s comfort. It may as well have come from his mouth at some point—except that he never quite found the way to verbalize it. Betony-san’s power wouldn’t happen to be mind-reading…would it? Out of morbid curiosity, Shoot repeatedly thought that he would fight Betony-san. An odd look flashed across Betony-san’s face and she raised her arm. Shoot began panicking. That was a bad id—then Betony-san sneezed into the elbow of her sleeve. It was a soft, like a kitten’s sneeze. 

            Apparently her power wasn’t mind reading.

Shoot looked at the far wall of the store he had finished shopping in—anywhere to keep his expression from being seen just then. His heart hammered in his chest, and his hand was even sweatier. He barely managed to fight down his adrenaline when Morel and Knuckle reappeared with a pile of bags under each of their arms. Those two were laughing at something as they made their way to the front of the store.

            “Oh, Skuld-kun! Let me give you Palm’s number. She’s been asking me to get that to you,” Knuckle commented, “I’ll send you everyone else’s contact info as well.”

 

* * *

 

            “Beans is quick as ever,” Morel said, skimming through a list of documents forwarded from the Hunter Association database.

            “I’ll send these over to you and Knuckle as well, so get through them as soon as you can,” the Deep Sea Hunter added. Really, though, was that alright? Researching Skuld didn’t sit right. She wasn’t some sort of target or obstacle. Really, Morel should have just been able to talk to her.

            But, this wasn’t just about his relationship with another apprentice, or even his adopted child. This was part of the late Chairman’s will. So, even if he didn’t care for it there wasn’t much of a choice, was there?

            “Oh, there was one thing I noticed today,” Shoot began from where he stood behind Morel’s office chair. Morel grunted, a signal that he was listening.

            “Betony-san, I did not sense her aura earlier. If I think about it, I assumed she was a normal person at the hospital as well,” Shoot said.

            “You’re right. Now that I think about it, it’s like her aura isn’t there. But, we’ve seen her scarf, she exorcised that thing from you, and Beans confirmed that she can use Nen. I wasn’t paying attention to it in the hospital, but we should have noticed her Nen at least during the exorcism,” Morel agreed, puzzling over this information.

            “Zetsu? In?” Shoot asked. It was the simplest explanation. Morel frowned and grunted again before speaking again.

            “If she stays in either Zetsu or In and—what did she call it? Flannel? Sounds right. If Flannel is independent…but she still touched that weird thing with her own hand. There should have been some aura protecting her during that time. So that doesn't seem to hold. You especially would have noticed, since you’re more aware of your surroundings than Knuckle.”

            “At dinner, Palm said something about her going into zetsu rather quickly. I hadn’t noticed a difference. Do you think Palm’s…condition has given her heightened senses?” Shoot asked.

            “Well, she is an enhancer type and she’s gotten a lot stronger since. Well. You know. I wouldn’t be surprised. I’ll ask her about it. In the mean time, pay closer attention when you’re around Skuld-chan, and see if you can’t pick up on anything,” Morel answered.

            “Understood,” Shoot replied.

            Morel paused, a passage in Beans’s report catching his attention.

            “We’ve got some reports here of a physical exam from a doctor when Skuld-chan was in high school. Evidence of a half-dozen fractures and other damage over a decade old. But there’s no hospital records, and the breaks healed. That’s some weird shit right there,” Morel commented, one hand rubbing at his chin, “Oh, there’s X-rays in here. Look, that’s way too much serious damage for a five-year old to have healed clean without a hospital visit. Attendance records for elementary school show she never missed a day, either. Something’s pretty fucked up here. What’s even weirder is that there aren’t any medical records from before Skuld-chan was fourteen.”

            “That’s high school age, and wasn’t this school a boarding school?” Shoot leaned over, skimming the report as well.

            “Yeah, there’s a lot of shady shit in here. Might want to wait a while before calling Skuld-chan’s old kohai. I’ll call this doctor when business hours roll around,” Morel said.

            A knock on the doorframe. Both hunters peered upwards, and saw Knuckle leaning against the wooden doorframe.

            “Oi. Has anyone seen Skuld-kun? I haven’t seen much of her since we got back from town, and this little guy is throwing a fit. Found ‘im crawling around the living room,” Knuckle said, holding up the bright violet, squirming and squeaking form of Flannel the scarf. Flannel made a series of irritable warbling noises.

            Struck by the fact that they were staring at a sentient scarf squeaking at them, all three hunters paused to let their situation sink in. This was a new one. Probably nothing would top this in a year at least.

            “Well, maybe he’s looking for Skuld-chan, too,” Morel shrugged, grinning at his own joke.

            Flannel made a single insistent noise, jabbing one end of its body in a clear direction.

            “Don’t tell me—” Morel began, not sure if he wanted to believe it. This was getting just plain _surreal_.

            “Ohh. Good guess. Looks like he knows which direction she went, too. What a clever little guy,” Knuckle commented, grinning like he’d just found a new puppy.

            “Alright, Shoot. Take Flannel here and go and make sure Skuld-chan doesn’t get hurt out there. It’s alright completely dark,” Morel said.

            “Eeeeeh, she’ll probably be fine, shishou. She’s old enough to go out on a walk at night alone,” Knuckle said.

            “She’ll always be my little girl. You won’t understand until you’re a father, Knuckle,” Morel mumbled, sulking as he clicked through more pages on Beans’s report.

            In that moment, Shoot could almost hear Betony-san saying that Morel wasn’t her real father. As if Morel could also hear it, the Deep Sea Hunter grumbled, “And I’m going to print some of these pictures of Skuld-chan out of Beans’s report and hang them around the house, too.”

            “Roger that,” Shoot sighed, moving out the door and holding his hand out in front of Flannel. The scarf made one more short noise in Knuckle’s direction, as if it were chiding him for being slow on the uptake, before sliding onto Shoot’s right arm.  



	8. Both of them disliked the idea of secrets, of comfort in distance.

            Shoot couldn’t see as many stars in the night sky as he would have liked. But, the light pollution from the nearby town hid most of them. The moon was waxing, growing near to full and shining down on the landscape. Although Morel’s home was inland enough for a thick forest over most of the extensive property, it was close enough that the sea gave it cool night for the summer.

            Once he and Shoot were outside, Flannel wrapped the bulk of his body around Shoot’s right arm, extending one end towards the woods past the back yard like a giant compass needle and peering at Shoot expectantly with his single eye.

            “Got it,” Shoot replied, only afterwards mulling over the fact that he was taking directions from a scarf. Wasn’t he a little too comfortable with this? Shoot frowned. Probably, there was no point in over thinking why he wasn’t over thinking something. Maybe he’d follow Morel’s example and just not worry about it. What was that phrase? ‘Go with the flow’? Sounded like something the Deep Sea Hunter would say.

            “Is Betony-san hurt?” Shoot asked.

            A single noise. Flat and short. It didn’t sound urgent. A ‘no?’ There went the greatest of Shoot’s worries, then. Knuckle was right. Skuld was an adult. She could handle taking a walk herself. This was just to make sure Morel didn’t work himself up. Work himself up over what, though?

            Out of habit, Shoot went into Zetsu as if tracking a magic beast through the wilderness. When Shoot was Morel’s newest apprentice, the Deep Sea Hunter gave him a lot of space—at least at first. Shoot kept to himself, and if they weren’t training, then Morel left him alone for the most part. But, Morel always called him for meals, always asked how he was doing.

            Shoot wasn’t sure if it was the same with Knuckle. But, there was the matter Knuckle discussed with him earlier as well. Keeping an eye on Betony-san was a mission priority. The UMA hunter grew quiet, again out of practice. There came a point where the birds active at night no longer noticed him, and continued their search for nocturnal insects to eat. The insects, too, flew into him on accident when they couldn’t detect his presence. Flannel, though, didn’t seem effected by Shoot’s stealth. The bright scarf continued to point in Skuld’s direction. In the dark, it looked like Flannel’s eye almost glowed. Or was that Shoot’s imagination?

            Even without Flannel, Skuld was easy to follow. She didn’t make a point of hiding her tracks. Then again, she probably never thought someone like an UMA hunter would follow her in the woods. At night. In the dark. Shit, this probably wasn’t a socially acceptable thing to be doing. This was fucking stalker behavior. Shoot’s lips fell into a heavy frown.

            This was not going to make a good impression, Flannel or not. But, would it be any better if Betony-san was aware that someone was following here? Either way, it probably wasn’t going to stop her from being upset. Ah. Palm would be disappointed that he couldn’t follow her directions. And after he thought he was making a little progress, too. Shoot went over thoughts like these on a loop as he walked deeper into the forest.

            The open sky above disappeared piece by piece under the canopy cover. Shoot’s nose filled with the full scent of loam, tree bark, and a combination of growing and decomposing plants. He took a few deep breaths, pausing to close his eyes and enjoy it. That familiar scent let his shoulders relax, and his heartbeat slow from an anxious gallop. No. It was still too early to start chastising himself over something he wasn’t even sure he had ruined, wasn’t it?

            Flannel led him into a small knot of old Beech trees, identifiable by their toothed, oval-shaped leaves. There, Skuld sat on the forest floor, leaning against a Beech tree with her eyes closed. A series of twisting, serpentine roots stretched from the ground and twined around her entire body as she remained motionless.

            How the fuck could something like this have happened?

            Shoot’s long legs ate up the distance between them. He had to crouch down to rip at the strange roots. But, before he could even remove one strand, it curled up his own right arm and hand. Then more came from the ground, growing at an impossible speed, until his own face was covered.

            Then, Shoot’s vision fell away from the forest.

            Images and impressions flashed through his head, men and women stretched too thin as if something alien had tried to make a person but with a fundamental misunderstanding of the purpose of each part. Their vague features seeming to be in each shadow—only to turn into a smudge or an optical trick. A city of circles, one inside the other going on and on. It came in spurts and waves, the face of a woman who only vaguely resembled Betony-san growing drawn and warped with hatred with each passing year until finally a mirror revealed what she had been all along. Rows upon rows of teeth. An endless hunger.

            There was a sensation of being drawn and stretched, until threads of himself began winding into an endless maw. Headstones spreading to the horizon. The question of whether or not he had ever been human to begin with. He felt empty, the infinite exhaustion of carrying a body more like an empty shell than a living thing. Something was always missing, more and more every day. The death of all things called to him.

            Then there was the towering figure silhouetted against it all, ancient and infinite and smelling of earth that inspired legends warning against digging too deep. It had no eyes, but Shoot could feel its gaze upon him—like the sun pierces the void of space to crush upon desert sand. Something sweet upon his lips, and an idea growing into his consciousness like a tree in quick time-lapse. _Someone like me…I don’t want a reason to live. If I died here, that would be fine. That would be respectable. My body could nourish the moss and the trees, and that would be so nice. So don’t help me. Don’t give me a reason to live._ Flesh and bone snapped and tore. It was certain. There was no point in fearing death. After all, hadn’t he been dying piece by piece all these years? He wished the forest away. But, it pressed closer.

In the end, he had no choice. No say in the matter. Thin green creepers twined up and down his bones and made invisible stitches in his flesh until everything that was broken was held together by the deepest black roots of the forest—if only for now, until the bone and sinew could knit itself back into shape on its own. _This_ was the price. _Life_ was the price. So even if his mind became so fragile that it might blow away in the wind, there was no choice but to survive and grow stronger. A final sleep beneath the mud and the moss was out of reach.

            Shoot was shocked out of this whirlpool of impressions when a hand gripped his right wrist, too small to close around all the way. And then the suffocating creepers and staring silhouettes fell away like leaves in a stormy autumn wind.

            Shoot had sweat through his shirt, too hot and too cold at once as the fabric clung to his skin. When he looked down, he saw a number of the thin, waving vines from earlier fall off his body as well as Betony-san’s. Although, Betony-san only had some sweat at the hairline on her face and on her neck. Her face was flushed, and she let go of Shoot’s wrist. She still sat on the forest floor, and he still leaned over her—paused in that moment from earlier. A few beads of sweat fell from Shoot’s forehead onto the ground.

            “Are you alright?” She asked.

            “Yeah,” he said, although not sure if he was.

            Betony-san nodded, then leaned back against the Beech tree. Neither of them said anything for a few minutes, until the young woman broke the silence.

            “Those were—I don’t know if they have a name. I always called them the ‘Watching Roots’. They’re everywhere in forests, at least healthy ones. If you use them, you can learn about what lives in the area. What’s been here,” she said, running a hand through the hair on the back of her head and looking at the grass around her feet.

            “Sorry,” she said.

            “For what?” he asked. If anything, Shoot felt like he should have apologized for following Betony-san around late at night. In hindsight, it was pretty questionable behavior. It seemed like he might have interrupted something important by assuming it was dangerous, too.

            “I don’t really know. I guess I'm just really embarrassed. It feels like I just messed up something big, and I don’t know what to say. I probably seem like a creepy person,” she said.

            Shoot swallowed, and looked towards the ground himself. Somehow it felt wrong to stay as he was, leaning over Betony-san. So he shifted and sat down, facing the other direction.

            “Not really,” he said after a pause of nearly a minute.

            “Did Morel-san ask you to follow me?” Skuld asked.

            “No,” Shoot lied.

            Shoot didn’t say that he was caught between something frightening and new and his own hesitance. The idea that he had immediately ruined something irreplaceable, without even considering that she might have felt the same way. Somehow Shoot didn’t understand how to express the sensation of having too much inertia to finally shake off his stagnation.

            “I thought you might get lost. It’s dark out,” is what Shoot finally said, “and he was looking for you.” The tall hunter extended his arm in Skuld’s direction, not looking. But, he felt Flannel peel off onto Skuld.

            “Oh,” Skuld replied, running her fingers through part of her hair over and over. A sign of nervousness, Shoot wondered? She had a habit of doing that. Flannel made a few chirping noises as he wrapped around Skuld’s neck.

            “I might have…seen something I shouldn’t have. Sorry,” Shoot felt the words leave his lips just before he was able to stuff them back. _Shit!_ He scolded himself, feeling more sweat on his brow. That was definitely not something you should tell someone, especially when you had been stalking them in the forest at night!

            “The first things I saw when using the Watching Roots were the land’s memories. Maybe you---oh shit, those were probably mine,” Skuld said, then covered her face with her hands. Shoot sucked in a breath, momentarily taken aback by Betony-san speaking that informally.

            “Oh man…” she groaned, “what a—geeze. I don't even know.” Shoot watched out of the corner of his eye as Betony-san began running her hands through the soil and moss on the ground. It was definitely an anxious habit.

            “What did you see? It was probably embarrassing and weird. Shit,” Skuld covered her face with her hands again.

            “I was worried something like this would happen,” she said.

            “Why?” Shoot asked.

            “Because it’s scary,” Skuld whispered, “it feels like everyone is going to think I’m strange, or frightening, or just too messed up to be around. Morel-san, he doesn’t act like he thinks that way about me. But, I’m scared that because I came here that eventually he’ll change his mind.  And that’s unfair to Morel-san, to think that he’d be that sort of person. I know that’s not the way he is. I keep trying to get over it, and I can’t. I’m still scared. And, wouldn’t it be unfair to him to stick around if he didn’t want to deal with me? I don’t feel like I’ll be much use.”

            Shoot chewed at the inside corner of his lips. Was there something he could do in this situation? Morel always reached out and mussed his or Knuckle’s hair or punched them in the shoulder at times like this. But, that didn’t seem right at all.

            “Me, too,” Shoot finally whispered.

            “Really? Someone strong like you?” Betony-san asked.

            Shoot chewed harder at the corner of his lips, staring at the small plants on the ground. Morel and Knuckle had told him he was strong in different words dozens of times. It was different, though. He had torn down parts of his mental cage to the point where sometimes he could act. All along he knew that he was physically strong. The way Betony-san asked him, though, it was embarrassing in a new way. Shoot couldn’t begin to imagine how he would look to someone like Betony-san.

            “Probably, everyone feels something like that. Morel, and Knuckle too. None of us are really…normal,” Shoot added. He listened to the last of his words go silent in the night, replaced by chirping insects and the wind in the leaves above them.

            “I won’t say anything to the others. But, if you want to talk about it….” Shoot left the thought mid-sentence—finding it difficult to choke out the words.

            “I don’t think you’re creepy. If they saw it, Knuckle and Morel would probably bother you a lot to tell them all about it. They’re that type. You aren’t alone. Morel, Knuckle and even—”

            Shoot felt his throat nearly close up. He looked up through a bare patch in the canopy, at the winking stars and lazy, drifting clouds in the night sky. Even though he couldn’t say it in the end, somehow Betony-san seemed to understand. Out of the corner of Shoot’s vision, he thought he saw a small smile spread across her lips.

            “Thank you. It means a lot to me,” she said, “You’re really kind, aren’t you?”

            Shoot couldn't manage to verbalize a reply, only making a choking noise. Who the hell would call him that? The tall and somber hunter slid his gaze back down to the ground, his cheeks feeling hot. What kind of person said things like that to someone like him? Strong and kind. That was what she said. It made Shoot want to hide in the forest underbrush. At the same time, Skuld wondered if she had said something she shouldn’t have.

            Birdsong and insect noises started again by the time Shoot worked past the block in his throat.

            “Hey. I have been wondering, why can’t we see your aura, or sense it?” Shoot surprised himself. It was happening more and more lately where he’d ask something personal, not even realizing it until a response from the other person let him know he hadn’t just thought it.

            “Oh,” Skuld paused, scratching at the back of her upper arm as Shoot began to wonder if he had asked an insensitive question, “I hide it. I think you refer to it as ‘zetsu’?” 

“All the time?” Shoot asked. Wouldn’t that be tiring to keep up?

            “It upsets people. So it’s better if no one sees it,” Skuld replied.

            Shoot slid his vision across the various plants on the ground, idly identifying them and turning over that tidbit of information in his mind. He could understand. Maybe. Well, he could understand being insecure and not wanting to be looked at. But, Morel and Knuckle wouldn’t. Both of them disliked the idea of secrets, of comfort in distance. They probably wouldn’t understand.

            Distance was another part of Shoot’s cage. And, somehow, he felt it would put him back where he started if he couldn’t acknowledge the lessons everyone taught him in NGL and pass them on to his junior. It almost seemed like it would be hypocrisy, or a betrayal of some sort.

            It was more depressing to think of someone else in that cage than to think of himself in that same position. Others always seemed too good for it. Then again, wasn’t that what Knuckle and Morel were always saying about him? What an awful change in perspective, to see a similar situation from their point of view.

            “Could I see? If you don’t mind,” Shoot hurried the second part, fearing his own tactlessness as he peered at the ground. Shit. Talking with Knuckle wasn’t like this. They were downright rude to each other half of the time, calling each other ‘you bastard’ and the like. Politeness was tricky. Talking to anyone but Morel or Knuckle was an additional hurdle on top of the first.

            “I’ll be honest. I’m worried that you’ll see and then you’ll find me disgusting. Same with the others,” Skuld said after a heavy silence.

            At first, Shoot thought she wouldn’t let herself out of Zetsu. After all, she was clearly reluctant. But, then the tall hunter felt something in the air change, like a silence he hadn’t noticed lifting. It was less an addition and more that something missing finally appeared. He concentrated on his eyes, shifting his aura for Gyo. Then he turned around, and looked at Skuld Betony.

            His mouth went dry, and his throat tightened. More sweat formed on his forehead and his palms, until he felt several beads slide down his face and neck. But the initial shock soon washed away as other emotions flooded Shoot’s mind.

            “Did something…did someone do that to you?” Shoot’s voice was lower than normal, harsher too. After he finished the question, he knew the answer even without hearing it.

            Shoot would be lying if he said he wasn’t upset. But, he wasn’t upset for the reasons Skuld would probably assume. Pitou’s aura, the other Royal Guards, too, were terrible. Awe-inspiring in their overwhelming power. This was horror of a different kind.

            Without zetsu, Skuld’s aura was obviously in tatters—torn in ragged patterns in some places and ripped and frayed like delicate cloth in others. It wasn’t that her aura was weak, feeble, dull or thin. No. Something had _torn_ her aura to pieces and what was left barely held together in one ragged piece—the sort of injury that hadn’t entered his mind as a _possibility_.

            Amongst the damage, here and there, were thin, faint tendrils of growth like a handful of day-old sprouts on top of a tree stump. Morel, Knuckle, and Shoot all bore countless scars on their bodies—even though their Nen caused all of them to heal so well that they weren’t much bothered by it. Shoot’s damage was more obvious in the form of his missing arm.

            But, this sight, Shoot was sure, would stay with him for the rest of his life. Skuld Betony’s smile was sad at the center of what was left of her aura. Morel’s students were soft, and not just Knuckle. Shoot knew one of his ‘bad habits’ was thinking about his enemy’s circumstances when he fought them. He struggled with that most recently with Killua before entering NGL.

            Usually the worst part of it was his imagination running wild with ways for him to empathize with his foes. But, this was worse. There was nowhere for his mind to turn, almost as if he didn’t want to understand how such a thing could happen. And, the person he looked at wasn’t an enemy. 

            One thing was clear, if Morel and Knuckle saw this they might just charge off—their minds only focused on dispensing some form of vigilante justice. If he was being honest, part of Shoot wanted to as well. And, there was one other clear thing. Somehow it seemed fundamentally wrong for Skuld Betony to leave go off on her own to some empty apartment. The idea of her walking off, alone, in that kind of condition was absolutely unacceptable.

            What could Shoot do, in that moment? Was there anything within his power that could somehow mitigate this sort of damage? Probably, Knuckle and Morel wouldn’t know what to do, either.

            Shoot looked at the ground once more as he place his own large hand on the top of Betony-san’s dark hair. Ruffling it seemed wrong. But, this was close to something Morel would have done for either Knuckle or Shoot, even now. Words failed Shoot, especially then. Lacking anything to say, about the subject at hand, Shoot thought of how he’d explain this to the other two at the house without causing an uproar. Ah. That was right. He and Betony-san were just sitting in the woods at night while the others were probably waiting. Great. Now he’d probably get in trouble with Morel and Knuckle for taking too long.

            “I don’t—I don’t hate you. And you aren’t disgusting,” Shoot said. Another pause long enough for the insects to start singing again.

            “Probably, we should probably go back. Knuckle and the boss, they might be worried by now,” Shoot muttered, standing up.

            “Oh…I forgot. It’s going to take some getting used to, being around people who will worry if you’re out late,” Skuld said, standing up and brushing some dark earth from her clothes. In a blink, she was back in Zetsu.

            It turned out that Morel did worry. When Shoot and Skuld were both within sight of the house, Shoot could make out Morel sitting on the back porch step. The Deep Sea Hunter glowered at his two students as they walked towards the back door.

            “You’re going to make me go bald from worrying, Skuld-chan,” Morel muttered, half-kidding judging from his exaggerated voice.

            “Do you want me to take an escort every time I go for a walk?” Skuld asked.

            “Yes,” Morel shot back, not missing a beat.


	9. Some Kind of Gangly and Uncomfortable-Looking Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meaningful names ahoy. 
> 
> Baumgarten --- An Orchard. You know. Where /fruits/ are grown. 
> 
>  
> 
> I'm not even sorry.

            It was strange—meeting in the kitchen first thing in the morning. For as long as Shoot could remember, Morel did the team’s briefings in a private room at the Hunter Association or one of their hotel rooms. Morel made coffee first thing in the morning, complete with four mugs set out on the counter. Given the grin, Morel must have been pretty happy about it, too. This was...the UMA hunter searched his vocabulary for a word, and couldn’t find one that fit. Morel’s mug was plain navy blue. Knuckle’s was white—covered in black paw prints. Shoot’s was also plain, solid black. He could only assume the fourth was for Betony-san. It was shaped like a plump hen, warm brown with bright orange spots. Round wings folded at the hen’s sides were even sculpted into the shape.

            Ah. Speaking of Betony-san. After thanking Morel for the coffee and pouring a cup for himself, the UMA hunter gave Morel a short report on what he learned about Skuld’s aura the night before. In that time, Shoot could have sworn he watched Morel reach zero to one hundred percent rage capacity—then further past—until he circled back around into serenity once more. Maybe it was a case of inducing so much fury in Morel to such a level where all but emergency services got shut off in his brain. Regardless, Morel managed a small smile, and set his full cup back down on the counter.

            If Shoot thought about it, he was definitely the type who avoided his feelings. Or, at least, that’s the sort of person he was. So it was strange, being able to understand why Morel was angry—and to know the feeling of that rage himself. Knuckle told Shoot that he felt the same about his team, once, during a hospital visit earlier. Apparently it came about during the fight with Youpi.  

            It was unexpected, to feel something like that, Shoot thought. But, it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. This must have been what Morel said he was missing—this sort of connection to a teammate. This is what Morel felt for his apprentices. If he thought about it, Shoot would feel the same for Knuckle or Morel—especially now. Maybe Gon had shaken more loose in Shoot’s mind than the UMA hunter had previously thought. Who knew his cage could have locked away so much?

            It was like looking through the world with a kaleidoscope, Shoot thought. The subject matter was the same. But, it shifted. Somehow. Even details Shoot previously noticed took on new meanings, or at least took on the potential for new meanings.

            He stared into the bottom of his coffee mugs. Then, he looked back at Morel—who stared at the remaining two empty mugs and tapped his fingers on the kitchen counter.

            It wasn’t long before Skuld made her way into the kitchen from the stairs. Shoot kept staring at his cup, not needing to look to know. Knuckle’s footsteps were familiar, and Shoot could have identified them by sound alone. But, the order the team woke up in wasn’t normal. Shoot remembered the countless days of Knuckle waking him up at Morel’s insistence. So where was the early-riser?

            “Oh, you’re pretty dressed up for a day of errands, Skuld-chan,” Morel said.

            Shoot looked towards the kitchen entrance out of the corner of his eyes. Come to think of it, Shoot had only known Betony-san for a few days, but she always wore nice clothes. Today, she had a dark green dress that ended just below the knees, some kind of black, heeled shoes and a black blazer with small white dots woven into the fabric. Flannel was tied into some sort of bow on the strap of her purse, looking content for a creature that was literally tied into a knot.

            Skuld paused to think before saying, “You think so? It’s pretty standard for an office.”

            “Do you have clothes more casual than that?” Morel asked.

            “I have a few pairs of jeans. But, I usually only wear those when it’s cold. And clothing for exercise, but that’s it,” Skuld replied.

            “You’re going to have to find something more suitable for training. At least some sturdy shoes,” Morel said.

            “Got it. Got it. I’ll need some recommendations,” Skuld said, taking out her new cell phone and typing out a quick note to herself. After that, she paused, frowning while staring at the screen.

            “Something wrong?” Morel asked. Shoot watched the muscle’s in Morel’s back tense. The Sea Hunter had not been that worked up in a while. It wasn’t in character for Morel to avoid the elephant in the room, though. So what was the difference? Shoot pulled his attention back to the coffee. He took another sip while he thought.

            “Not really. I’m just not sure how I’m going to make a comeback on this game. Palm’s pretty tough to begin with, and Ikalgo just put down ‘tyranny’ in one turn on a triple word and triple letter,” Skuld said, her eyebrows knitting together.

            Morel looked over as Skuld showed him the screen. Oh. Some kind of gaming app with multiplayer capabilities. The Sea Hunter laughed, grinning again. Ikalgo had attached a picture of himself smirking at the camera—Meleoron sulking next to a window and smoking in the background.

            “Rough time for Meleoron,” Morel said.

            “Nothing but vowels for three rounds, now. Ikalgo said he’s nursing the pain with shopping. Apparently he’s gotten really interested in a lot of media in the past few days. He sent me a text this morning asking for music suggestions,” Skuld said.

            “You got one, too?” Morel asked, recalling that he had received a similar request late the previous evening. Morel hadn’t replied, yet.

            Shoot remembered his discussion with Meleoron at the hospital. Was Meleoron getting interested in music in addition to comics, too? At least he’d have plenty of things to occupy himself with. If Meleoron got interested in videogames and movies, he’d never run out of things to keep his attention. Also, another part of Shoot’s mind noticed, this was a good information-gathering opportunity. If he could gain access to the recommendations list, then he would learn about Morel as well as Betony-san. It wasn’t that Morel wasn’t open about his taste in music, but it would be a good refresher. If Shoot were careful, Meleoron would be a good source of data.

            The UMA hunter hadn’t expected Palm to be so accurate. It was almost embarrassing.

            Oh. Familiar footsteps. Shoot’s sight flashed to the kitchen entrance, catching Knuckle’s entrance out of the corner of his vision. Although he was later than was habit, Knuckle was dressed and ready.

            “We’re supposed to be getting the shipment from that custom bed-frame and mattress place later tonight. So all the furniture needs to get dropped off either before 8pm today or tomorrow. Let me know if you want something from somewhere other than the department store. We can work pretty much anything out,” Morel said, “and what kept you so long, Knuckle?”

            “Sorry, shishou. I was up late. Meleoron’s got a ton of questions all of a sudden,” Knuckle said.

           

            Shoot frowned, thinking. Maybe encouraging Meleoron down this line had not been the best idea after all.

 

            And, come to think of it, was he getting left out?

 

            A buzz from Shoot’s cellphone. The UMA hunter set down his coffee cup and fished the phone out of his pocket. Ah. It was Meleoron—complaining that Shoot’s old phone didn’t let Meleoron send group texts like he had with Betony-san, Morel, and Palm, and the questionnaire making the rounds. 

 

* * *

 

            After all the shopping was done, Morel and Shoot said they had business in town. Skuld went upstairs for a short nap. While Knuckle waited for either Morel and Shoot to return, or Skuld to finish her rest, the Beast Hunter took out his laptop with the intent of catching up on what he missed in the last few days. An hour passed. Then some time more. Even then, he couldn’t concentrate. Worse still, there was something else.

Knuckle couldn’t properly name what he felt—only when he experienced it last. When the police finally took Knuckle into custody, his legs felt like they might fall off. The cops themselves were a blur. All Knuckle remembered was the hot ache in his legs, his breathless lungs, and the grin that wouldn’t leave his face. He’d bought enough time for his friend. Definitely.

            Definitely.

            Knuckle couldn’t remember much of what happened in the weeks following that his arrest. It didn’t matter that he was getting charged. At the time, it seemed like the only difference between his current school and the ‘youth detention center’ was the uniform. The way everyone acted, an eventual transfer to the detention center seemed less of an ‘if’ and more of a ‘when.’ So he ate. He slept. He idly wondered how his friends were doing back at school while the officers said various things. Another Juvenile Offender lent him a copy of Shonen Jump while they counted the days in holding cells.

            It was like that in Morel’s house now. The hours and minutes dragged by. But, when Knuckle got ready to sleep, it felt like he’d let an entire day’s possibilities pass him by. So which was slow, the time or Knuckle?

            The previous day was the same. After scolding Shoot on the train, Knuckle couldn't manage to feel relaxed even through the night. He got up twice, first to pace, and then to pull on a shirt and pants and run outside when the pacing didn’t help him sleep. Unlike Shoot, Knuckle had a pretty quiet mind. Over-thinking wasn’t a problem. But, his body expressed the sense that something wasn’t right through muscle twitches and a sensation that he should be doing _something_.  But, there wasn’t exactly a goal for Knuckle to push himself towards or an obstacle to think about.

            A room to himself was a luxury. Although, Knuckle couldn’t help but think that if they were all crowded into tighter space then he wouldn’t feel so…

            It just didn’t seem comfortable with everyone else behind a door. Were they all hiding from each other or what? Both Shoot and Skuld seemed like the types who would do that. But, what the hell was wrong with Morel, then? For that matter, Knuckle wondered what was wrong with him?

            Morel and Shoot were off speaking to Skuld-kun’s old high-school junior. During that, Knuckle’s job was to stay behind and keep Skuld more or less occupied—or at least make sure someone knew what she was up to.

            Apparently that was mostly napping. It was almost surreal, how delicate a person with a ‘normal’ constitution was. But, before the other two hunters returned, Skuld descended the stairs again.

            “Whatcha doing?” Knuckle asked.

            “Just making some tea. Do you want some?” Skuld asked.

            “Yeah, sure,” Knuckle said, watching as Skuld had to stretch on her tip-toes to retrieve the mugs from earlier that day and a tin of tea from a high cabinet. He eyed the plump chicken mug.

            “You like animals?” Knuckle asked.

 

* * *

 

            “Thank you for taking the time to meet with us,” Morel brought his cell-phone and placed it on the table—voice-recording app already running. The Sea Hunter took up most of the couch in Lily’s living room by himself. And, like some kind of gangly and uncomfortable-looking shadow, Shoot stood at the back wall. Lily brought out a few mugs of coffee, setting them beside a large stack of hardbound books on the worn coffee table. Most of Lily’s apartment was covered in stacks of paper, whiteboards, and computers. The thesis, Lily had explained earlier.

            “It’s no problem. Least I can do,” Lily waved her hand, as if dismissing Morel’s thanks physically.

            “These are the yearbooks from when I attended. Betony-senpai was a year above me,” Lily explained, pushing a stack of three hard-bound books over towards Morel.

            “Oh, thank you,” Morel said, picking up one of the yearbooks and passing it back to Shoot to examine. Lily smiled, taking a sip of coffee before speaking again.

            “Circle City Academy wasn’t—” a small laugh, “—It wasn’t what you’d call normal. You might get an idea of what I’m saying if you go through the list of graduates and see what they’re up to, now. Anyway, the student body was divided up by year and rank. Most of us were First Circle. But, if you advanced, then you got better accommodations, privileges, and the like. Sometimes you’d just go back to the dorms and find out your roommate had advanced, and you wouldn’t see much of them after that. I didn’t really figure out what it took to advance—seemed like there were different criteria for everyone. Ah—you can tell what rank everyone is by the seal in the lower right of their picture. Betony-senpai started out Third Circle in her first year,” Lily said.

            Shoot listened, his attention admittedly straying when he started looking at each of the graduates. Several names caught his attention right away. But, he couldn’t place where he’d heard them before. Still, something was odd. His intuition said that there had to be something—a pattern of some kind. He was sure of it. On a whim, Shoot shifted his sight into Gyo. His breath caught in this throat. Ah.

He flipped through a few more pages in the book. If the other yearbooks held to the same pattern, then this was it. The students weren’t ranked by academics or athletics—but by _aura_. First Circle students lacked aura and Nen like most people. Second Circle students and above were rare within first year students. But by the time they reached second or third year—Shoot ran a quick calculation in his head.

            The statistical average was one possible Nen user per every 1,000 people in the human population. Circle Three and above roughly matched that aura level of 1/1,000. So why were there at least a dozen students in the third year in class of less than 400?

            “Could we borrow these?” Morel and Lily paused their conversation—both surprised by Shoot’s question.

            “Yes. Absolutely. Oh—here she is. This was the student council president while Betony-senpai attended. She still ran the school after her graduation. The next student council president was more or less her subordinate—” Lily pointed to a girl with unnerving, sharp features and a stern expression. Lucretzia Baumgarten. As Lily went through the yearbooks on her table, Morel noted Skuld’s presence in more than a fair number of pictures with Ms. Baumgarten.

            “Were she and Skuld-chan friends?” Morel asked.

            “Something like that,” Lily said.

            “Betony-senpai wasn’t an _official_ member of the student council or Lucretzia’s inner circle. But it seemed like the president had a special interest in senpai. Like I said, Betony-senpai entered as a Third Circle student even at the entrance ceremony of her first year. And not many other students challenged her for her rank compared to the others,” Lily continued. 

            Shoot felt a few drops of sweat roll down his neck and into the collar of his shirt. Lucretzia Baumgarten wasn’t near Gon or Killua’s level, judging by the aura in her photographs. But, she could still have been a match for half of the younger hunters at sixteen. _This_. Shoot paused. What was going on at this school? With Nen’s status as a secret among the general public, the UMA hunter couldn’t imagine that the government would notice anything out of the ordinary. But, what about the Hunter Association? Shoot brought his attention to Morel and Lily’s conversation again.

            “—Betony-senpai didn’t speak very often. She kept to herself aside from when the president needed something. She seemed almost absent most of the time—like she wasn’t there somehow. Senpai got in trouble with the school doctor for forgetting to eat a few times,” Lily took another sip of her coffee.

            “Did she have a roommate in the dorms we could talk to?” Morel asked.

            “Oh no!” Lily waved her hand across her face again.

            “Betony-senpai was Fourth Circle by the time I met her. She had her own house,” Lily said.

            “Her own house,” Morel repeated, voice flat.

            “Yes. Everyone in the student counsel had their own _staff_ even if they lived with their parents. But, Betony-senpai lived alone. Like I said the other day, her parents never visited. Although—” Lily paused again, looking up at the ceiling while she recalled her memories.

            “Betony-senpai’s house was kind of...ah. I don’t really know how to describe it. I visited there once and I—” another pause, “—I always felt like I was being watched. Somehow. How funny is that?” Something about Lily’s uneasy laugh made Morel wonder.


	10. Adding Interest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the hardest lesson to learn isn't how to try harder, but how to take care of yourself better. 
> 
> Shout out to all of you with shitty, low blood pressures like mine. 80/59 does not a fun time make.

 

Morel bent and stooped over before he walked out the back door of the house. The giant pipe he held and slung over one shoulder missed taking out part of the doorframe by maybe an inch. His two apprentices, and Skuld Betony, were already standing around the field next to a small table holding several pitchers full of water. There was Shoot, with a dark T-shirt and long, loose athletic pants. There was Knuckle, still wearing the white gakuran minus the long jacket. And there was—

“Skuld-chan, where the _hell_ did you find those in this day and age? I didn’t peg you as someone to wear something as old-fashioned as buruma,” Morel scratched at the bridge of his nose.

“They _aren’t_ buruma,” Skuld pulled one leg of her athletic shorts down to near knee-level and then folded her arms over her chest—showing the type of irritation that suggested she had to answer that same question twice earlier that day. Sure enough, the pant leg Skuld pulled down inched its way back up her leg to join its counterpart in hot-pants length. Morel paused, turning to watch Shoot stare at the ground with unusual intensity—even for Shoot. The Deep Sea Hunter watched as a bead of sweat ran down Shoot’s chin, before falling to the ground. Damn. The angular man looked about one minute away from an aneurism. Knuckle also focused his attention somewhere off on the horizon, making a clear effort to avoid even looking in Skuld’s direction.

Skuld Betony’s usual wardrobe of voluminous dresses and skirts did a good job giving the impression she was petite all over. But—

Morel made a mental note to call Knov—another excuse—and demand pay-up on that wager that Shoot was an ass man.

“Well, I guess it can’t be helped. Moving on. Skuld-chan, I’d like to get an idea of your Nen abilites today,” Morel said.

“That’s going to be a bit of a problem. Most of what I do requires that I make something by hand first,” Skuld replied, adjusting a bobbypin holding her bangs out of her hair.

“Can you elaborate on that?” Morel asked.

“Ah. Well, I knit Flannel’s body before I could conjure the spirit to give him life. So I usually make something—like a small doll, a charm, or even food,” Skuld said.

“Food?” Knuckle turned his head—athletic shorts apparently forgotten.

“Yes. Usually in that case it’s designed to speed up recovery from a cold, or something like that,” Skuld said. Morel thought she sounded embarrassed by it. Sure, it wasn’t flashy or useful in a fight. But, that was the kind of support Nen a lot of people would be grateful for. The Deep Sea Hunter wondered if that was part of why Skuld kept pretty quiet about the fact she could use Nen at all. Was it possible that she was embarrassed by it after spending so much time at the Hunter Association, meeting people who were combat types?

“Oh, that is a bit unusual. Do you have anything you can use on short notice?” Morel asked.

“Just one, and it’s for exorcism only,” Skuld said, looking off to the side and down towards the grass.

“Let’s see that, then. Hey, Knuckle! Put Potclean on Skuld-chan so we can see this in action!” Morel yelled.

Knuckle made a choking sound, and opened his mouth. Knuckle then closed his mouth, scowled, and flicked Skuld on the shoulder with his middle finger and thumb. At least he knew better than to actually punch Skuld, Morel thought. In a moment, the jolly-looking Potclean appeared showing a measley 2 Aura loan to Skuld. The young woman paused, looking at Knuckle’s mascot floating around her shoulder. Shoot continued to stare holes into the ground.

“This is really cute,” she commented.

“Thank you!” Knuckle puffed out his chest and grinned.

“We all know it’s cute! Quit messing around!” Morel shouted, waving his hand at the three in front of him.

“The Morai Blade,” Skuld said under her breath, holding her hand out in front of her. Bright Nen spun out of the air and solidified into a pair of ornate, golden sewing sheers in Skuld’s right hand.

“It’s time! Adding interest!” Potclean chirped.

“Better hurry up before you can’t use Nen for a month,” Knuckle said.

Skuld nodded, then grasped the handle of the scissors in her hand and stabbed through Potclean with them.

“POTCLEAN!” Knuckle yelled out of surprise.

Morel also flinched. He hadn’t seen any Nen able to so much as effect Knuckle’s like that. Although, Morel thought, he shouldn’t have been surprised. Skuld was, after all, an Exorcist.

“Oh my!” Potclean squeaked, before splitting into ragged ribbons and disintegrating into the air.

“I’m sorry!” Skuld blurted.

“No. No! There’s nothing to apologize for. I was just surprised! That’s never happened before, no matter how hard someone punched him,” Knuckle nearly jumped to respond.

“Don’t worry, Skuld-chan. You didn’t do anything wrong! Shoot, you give it a try. I want to see if Skuld can exorcise Hotel Rafflesia, too. It’d be interesting if she could break out once inside,” Morel turned to his other apprentice. Shoot jumped, shifting his gaze to Morel, and then to the ground again. Other than that, Shoot gave no indication that he was going to do anything.

“One moment,” Morel said, before slinging his giant arm around Shoot’s shoulders and bodily dragging him off further into the field. The Deep Sea Hunter half-listened to Knuckle trying to reassure Skuld that no one was angry with her. When he could no longer hear them, he stopped. Then he leaned down just enough to bash his forehead against Shoot’s.

“What’s the story here, Shoot?” He asked.

Morel watched Shoot mentally wrestle with words the same way someone might wrestle with a wet bar of soap in the bath for a few minutes before sighing.

“Are you _seriously_ unable to keep it together because you’re too busy keeping yourself from staring at Skuld-chan’s ass? We’ve faced plenty of opponents in way sexier clothes before, Shoot. This is absurd,” Morel said.

Shoot made another choking noise. Bingo. Morel’s intuition was right on target this time. Damn. What a time for Shoot to ‘awaken’ as it were. Not that he could blame his student. His daughter was _clearly_ a looker. Good thing Morel had Nen to intimidate all potential boyfriends with. That would show ‘em.

“I-I know,” Shoot fumbled.

“Well, do your best to re-focus. I know you have trouble working with unfamiliar people. But, you’re going to have to get over this. I’m not asking Skuld-chan to change her clothes,” Morel said.

Shoot nodded in understanding. He had to get over this.

Morel and Shoot’s conversation was interrupted by a raucous laugh from Knuckle. When the two hunters made their way back to the clearing, Knuckle was bent double with laughter.

“Do it again!” Knuckle said.

Flannel-kun had made an appearance, and was now wrapped around one of Skuld’s arms.

“Alright, if you’re sure,” Skuld said.

Knuckle immediately fired several small concentrations of Nen towards Flannel—who whipped around to eat it all.

“Now say ‘I’m firing my laser!” Knuckle insisted.

Skuld made a face, but aimed her arm with Flannel towards Knuckle.

“I’m firing my laser,” Skuld said, blushing.

Flannel opened his mouth and shot a beam of Nen towards Knuckle. Knuckle easily bat it away with a hand, but kept laughing.

“How much can you fit in there?” Knuckle laughed.

“Over time, I suppose a fair amount. But, it isn’t usually a good idea to waste it on one shot. Otherwise he won’t have anything to defend me with,” Skuld said.

“It looks like your biggest problem is a lack of aura by the numbers. Otherwise you’ve got a lot of options,” Knuckle said.

“And the best way to fix that is constant practice. So guess what you’re doing today? Try making a little bubble of Nen off of your hand and then change the shape. Start with something simple. You’re working on that for a while,” Morel said.

“Ah,” Skuld replied.

“And don't think you’re just doing that. Even though you’re a support type, you have to keep your body healthy. After break, I’m giving you a routine for yoga and some other types of exercise to help get your aura flowing. You’re probably going to hate it, but too bad!” Morel grinned, then he turned his gaze to Knuckle and then to Shoot.

“As for you two, we’re going with the usual routine until tomorrow. I’m waiting on some feedback from Biscuit Krueger for all of you. So look forward to hell!” Morel laughed.

Shoot frowned, and Knuckle grumbled. But, it didn’t save them from Morel’s new training regimen.

Skuld listened as Knuckle, Morel, and Shoot returned to sparring in the field. She had heard about an exercise similar to this while she worked at the Hunter Association. If she was being honest, Skuld had also tried it once or twice in private. But, that was out of curiosity more than anything else. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Deep breaths. The young woman took a seat on the ground and stared at her right hand.

Making an aura bubble was more difficult than Skuld remembered. She was reminded of the regular exercise routines and journaling that she picked up and dropped as quickly as the weather changed. Probably, she would be so out of practice if she had stuck to either or both of those.

A small aura bubble shook into existence on the tip of Skuld’s index finger. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. The bubble continued to tremble, growing and shrinking at an erratic pace. Then it sunk back into the rest of her aura, gone. Skuld frowned. No good.

She let her attention wander to the others—who were already running around and shouting. All three of them moved so quickly. It really seemed like there was no way that she, with her short legs and heavy feet, could ever move like that. Was it impossible for her to catch up?

In that moment, Skuld forgot the fundamental concept that as a support type she was never meant to physically catch up to a combat type’s level of athletics in the first place. She saw the grace and power in their movements, and forgot. There was value in her own power, in the limitless possibilities in things she could create with her own hands. But, dismissing ‘soft’ and ‘domestic’ abilities like her own was a habit so old it may as well have been engraved into Skuld’s bones. Thus, she slipped into a nearly forgotten bad habit.

By lunch, Skuld had acquired a small shake to her hands. Morel suggested that she take it easy as he passed out sandwiches. After the meal, Skuld did think better of forcing herself through the exercise at the pace she had been.

But.

But, those three moved so well. Envy bubbled in her gut.

Just. Just once or twice more.

Skuld didn’t notice when the blood vessel burst in her eye. She only noticed the blood dripping down her nose when it splashed onto her leg.

Oh. Skuld pulled herself to her feet—to get a towel. But, chronic low blood pressure and hours of sitting combined with over-exertion had taken their combined toll. Her eyesight went brown. Then black. And then there was the grass against the side of her face.

 

* * *

 

 

“I don’t think it’s serious. But it could turn that way,” Knuckle said, sitting on the back porch. The moon was bright. The stars were bright, and the sky was a velvety black between them. Inside, most of the lights were off save for in the kitchen and hallway. Morel and his students all found the urge for fresh air that night. In the silence between words, all three hunters could make out some early insect song from the field. Upstairs, Skuld Betony slept and, hopefully, recovered.

Morel frowned, mentally agreeing with Knuckle. Shit. Maybe he shouldn’t have given an assignment that tough from the get-go. Or maybe he should have been more specific. Or something. Or anything.

Shoot and Knuckle exchanged glances as Morel’s expression revealed his thought-process. Shoot turned back to the forest and remained silent.

“It wasn’t your fault. She seems like the type to over-work and over-do everything from the get-go. If I had to guess, I don’t think Skuld-kun knows the meaning of taking things easy,” Knuckle said.

Morel blew a sigh out of his nose in reply.

“I never thought I’d see the day when I’d be so unhappy about a hard-working student,” Morel grumbled.

Knuckle could easily imagine Skuld waking up—or avoiding resting altogether to keep practicing. If he were a betting man, he’d probably put a decent sum on Skuld showing up the next morning with a second burst blood vessel leaving a bright stain in her eyes or some other sign of over-exertion. But, he sure as hell wasn’t going to say that to Morel. Knuckle had a similar bad habit when he was younger. But, he hadn’t taken it to extreme that Skuld did, even back then.

Maybe it would have been fine if it were someone else. Or, at least maybe it would have been fine if Skuld-kun didn’t seem like she was waiting for rejection perpetually. It reminded Knuckle too much of kids who cut themselves or put out cigarette butts on their own skin. Wasn’t working to injury, and then past it, pretty close?

He got it. Knuckle could imagine himself as a kid looking at Morel. Morel was tall, cool, and dependable. Knuckle could understand wanting to keep someone’s approval, especially when it felt like that sort of attention could disappear any moment. Forever. So yeah. He got it. But, Skuld-kun shouldn’t have had to worry. She was an exorcist. She was educated. She wasn’t some delinquent who dropped out of school and caused trouble for law enforcement. So when Knuckle could identify that familiar fear and anxiety reflected in little Skuld, he wasn’t expecting it. It made him wonder. What had happened?   
The answer came into Knuckle’s mind even before the question was completed. Of course nothing could change so quickly. At the same time, Knuckle’s intuition told him that if anyone could work it out, it would be Skuld-kun.

“You could always call Biscuit Krueger and ask her to pay a visit,” Knuckle offered.

Both Shoot and Morel moved their gaze to Knuckle.

“Last time I heard, she ain’t workin’ with Gon or Killua. And she loves polishing ‘gems.’ Probably hasn’t trained an exorcist before, and she probably knows how to handle students like Skuld-kun pretty well,” the Beast Hunter continued.

Shoot brought his hand to his mouth as he thought. It wasn’t a poor idea. Morel breathed a snorting sound out his nose.

What was the harm in asking?

Morel made the call.


	11. Was that a Bad Scenario?

**** Biscuit Kreuger barely had time to make it to Morel’s location. She had some important business involving the Hunter Association and the Dark Continent. But, when would the Gem Hunter get another chance to see a jewel like this in the raw? The blond Gem Hunter took a red-eye flight and burst through Morel’s front door in a whirlwind of pink ruffles just after breakfast—when everyone aside from Skuld warmed up in the morning sun.

Two over-stuffed bags groaned fell onto the hardwood floor. The Gem Hunter’s hair was piled onto her head in a fanciful braided bun. And a giant, pink Alice Bow sat right before the bun, like a tiara. Her eyes sparkled as she looked Skuld up and down, nodding to herself.

“Wow~ You’re pretty cute. I’m surprised someone like Morel was able to recruit you!” Biscuit Kreuger grinned as she took off her shoes and set them on the shoe rack right inside the hallway. The blond closed the front door with a small kick of her stockinged feet. Then, Bisky was in the kitchen, sitting across from Skuld in a blur of lacy, ruffled clothing.

Skuld startled a few inches off her seat like a spooked cat. She didn’t feel cute. She felt like a giant mess. The burst capillary in her eye didn’t hurt, only itched. But, it was more than enough to remind her that she’d messed up the day before. Again.

Morel was right. This was an interesting case. She wasn’t surprised to have heard that Knuckle mistook Skuld for a non-Nen user. For anyone but the most seasoned of Nen masters, Skuld’s zetsu was near perfect! And to think that the little brunette hadn’t had any formal training. Although.

When she adjusted her sight, Bisky could see the damage. The rips and tears in her essence. It was something Biscuit Kreuger had only ever seen once or twice before. That sort of battle damage was rare. Part of the gem hunter wanted to bash her fist on the ground and sob right then and there. Skuld could have seen so bright, so sparkling! If only Bisky had gotten there first! It was like some ham-fisted imbecile had just taken a hammer to a raw opal and—

“Can I get you anything to drink? Or eat?” Skuld asked, eyes focusing off to the side.

“Tea, if you have it,” Biscuit said, schooling her thoughts back to the present.

Really, though. It wasn't fair that Morel got such a nice, polite student. And so cute, to boot! It made the Gem Hunter momentarily regret going on the Dark Continent mission. But, she had promised. Everyone was counting on her, for especially a lot of people in the association. Hopefully she could fix some of the worst damage and set a good foundation before leaving.

Maybe Biscuit could even figure out a way to get Morel to entrust Skuld to her on a full-time basis by the time Biscuit got back from the Dark Continent. Ah. It would be great if Biscuit could expand her collection of jewel-like apprentices.

“You must be Skuld. My name is Biscuit Kreuger, but you should call me ‘Bisky’,” the blond said.  

“Thank you for taking the time to come all the way out here. You must have a very busy schedule,” Skuld said, selecting a tin of tea from the cabinet, and then pouring a scoop of the loose leaf into a drawstring bag. 

Bisky watched as Skuld went about preparing some tea, and brought some fruit out to the table in a bowl. Skuld continued to bustle around the kitchen. The Gem Hunter sighed. It was like whiplash, going from Gon and Killua to someone with this type of personality. 

“Sit down already,” Bisky said. 

Skuld blushed before walking back to the table and taking a seat. 

Bisky took an orange out of the basket at the table and began to peel it. Then she spoke.

“Your situation isn’t exactly common, even among Nen users. Morel asked me for advice about your training, since I have a mission that begins soon and can't train you myself. But, you aren't at a place where you can be trained.” 

A shiver of shock ripples through Skuld. Was there something wrong with her? No. She really shouldn't have been--Skuld’s train of thought derailed as Morel slammed the back foot open with enough force to shake the frame. 

Was Bisky really going to say something like that about his kid? Morel had trusted Bisky with this. Could he have been wrong about the Gem Hunter’s sensitivity? He opened his mouth to yell something, and Bisky continued. Her voice was level.

“Simply put, with Nen Users like you, your strength is also your greatest weakness. I've only heard of a few cases like yours, but it's easy to recognize. You've been relying on Nen to push past your physical limits for too long. Before you can train, you need to recover from some of the damage,” Biscuit said. 

“Damage?” Morel repeated. 

Bisky nodded, taking the tea bag out of her cup and placing it on the marching saucer on the table. 

“Even if it isn't a case of serious injury, not resting during a small illness can build up over time. A missed meal. A bad night of sleep. They all have their price. And if you have one or two rough days and don't rest after, that can also build up over time. Normal people will eventually have to rest. But, through willpower, it is possible to keep going like normal. Even for Nen Users, though, eventually it will pile up. You're going to have to rest off that debt and build back your health before you can think of training any further,” Bisky said. 

In the background, Bisky could hear Knuckle yelling at Morel to move out of the way. Ugh. Bisky was willing to bet that both of them had been listening in outside. 

Bisky sipped at her tea. Oh. It was good. Not over-heated at all. Wing always used water that was too hot or left the tea in for too long--causing it to taste bitter. 

“You've already damaged your body permanently. But if you don't recover the right way, it'll be worse--” Bisky sighed as she heard stomping feet and then Knuckle burst through the front door. The door smashed against the wall, leaving a cracked imprint of the inside doorknob in the drywall. He must have grown bored waiting behind Morel. Shoot followed behind, already sweaty and biting his upper lip. 

Then the raucous demands began. Now it came from both sides. Just what was Bisky saying eeeeeh?! Jesus Christ it was less like Bisky was trying to advise Skuld and more like she was a prospective suitor whose father and older brother had come to intimidate. 

“Shut the hell up, you two! I'm not saying anything that should offend you two morons!” Bisky shrieked, “No Nen training until 100% recovery! This is a serious condition!” Bisky shot back. 

“I don’t know how it got to this point. Most people at least have the sense of self-preservation not to use Nen to this degree. At least, that’s how it was before your generation of idiots!” Bisky shouted at Knuckle in particular. 

The shouting back and forth continued. 

“Wait. Please. Can you explain the situation from the start?” Shoot asked as he grabbed a hold of the back of Knuckle’s shirt, restraining him from storming towards the kitchen.

Once Knuckle and Morel were convinced to listen to the complete explanation, they both settled into a quiet irritation around the kitchen table. Shoot stood towards the back of the kitchen, his back against the counters and cupboards. 

Shoot brought his hand towards his face, resting his lips against the knuckles of his right hand. He had assumed that both Morel and Knuckle were both jumping to conclusions and getting riled up over a misunderstanding. Still. It was a relief to know he was right about that. On the other hand, Shoot was beginning to wonder about Morel and Knuckle’s increased agitation. After the incident in East Gorteau, they had both been more aggressive. Morel was more pushy with his affection for both Knuckle and Shoot. Knuckle ate more, and kept going out early to run before training. 

It was like they were both jumping at shadows. 

Maybe he should say something. Or maybe not. Shoot narrowed blinked, unable to decide. At the same time, wasn’t the issue with Betony-san’s health more important right now? Or was it? Shoot knew Morel and Knuckle. He’d known them for years. At the same time, Morel and Knuckle could take care of themselves. They’d gotten themselves through similar post-mission slumps before. Betony-san didn’t have the experience or strength to do that, probably. Shouldn’t he feel strongly one way or the other? 

Should he?   
Or was that a bad scenario, too?

“Like I said, Skuld will never reach that point of physical strength. That isn’t even possibility at this point,” Bisky said, sipping at her tea and looking to the side, “So, don’t even waste your efforts on that, Skuld. Combat isn’t for you, and that’s fine. Don’t ever think you need to compete with these muscle-heads over here. Support types tend to have a complex over it.” 

Knuckle made a face when Bisky said that. But, the Beast Hunter kept his grumbling near silent. In the end, Knuckle even produced a pad of paper and began taking notes on Bisky’s suggestions. 

Skuld attempted to scoot out of the front, but ended up crowded in by Morel on one side and Knuckle on the other. There was no space for her to scoot her chair back. Morel nearly crowded her out as he leaned forward.

“What should we expect to see during the recovery process?” He asked. 

“Definitely increased sleep. It should look a lot like a flu, since the body has been stressed for a long time. Proper nutrition is very important, and daily calorie intake should also be raised a little. Skuld, I hate to say it, but it’s going to be a really frustrating time. It’s hard to guess how long you’ll be in recovery, since there aren’t many cases like yours. But, stick with it,” Bisky said. 

The blond grinned. 

“You’ll be sparkling and ready to improve after that.” 

Morel frowned. 

“My big concern is how is Skuld-chan supposed to just stop using her Nen like this after being in the habit for so long? That’s not really something you can easily manage when you’ve done it regularly for a long time,” Morel said. 

Bisky grinned again. 

“Cookie-chan has a massage to stop that sort of thing. Her Nen won’t return until after she’s back to good health. So it’ll manage itself. But, you should still hang around these guys, Skuld. The Nen of others will help speed up the process a little,” Bisky replied. 

Convenient, right? A master of several Nen types such as Bisky wouldn’t be any less prepared. 

“Oh, like cats’ purring,” Knuckle said, nodding and folding his arms across his chest.

“Thank you for the help, Biscuit,” Morel said.

“Bisky!” Bisky snapped.

 

* * *

 

 

Skuld fell asleep within ten minutes after the massage was over. 

Bisky left. She had a plane to catch. She had a mission. 

Morel sighed over the pileup of Chinese takeout boxes all over the kitchen table. After Biscuit Kreuger left the house, it felt empty--almost like the walls would sag inward. The Deep Sea Hunter went about expanding the house with noise and food immediately after. He pulled a take-out menu off the refrigerator, and proceeded to go down the list and order near triple portions of anything that struck his fancy. 

Shoot hadn’t said anything during that. Instead, he looked at the mugs lined up on the drying rack near the sink. He, Knuckle, and Morel all drank coffee with varying amounts of cream and sugar. Betony-san drank tea, usually unsweetened. All three of them had gawked and exchanged glances of confusion when they opened a cabinet--only to find it stuffed to the brim with tea. And it wasn’t the pre-bagged stuff that all of them were familiar with. It was all in air-tight tins and a loose bunch of dried leaves and other things in each--some kind of fancy tea. Then Knuckle showed him the drawer under the oven--full of nearly a dozen different cake pans--as if it was a hidden sign left behind by a UMA. 

The house was a lot cleaner now that there was someone else keeping an eye on the tidiness, one part of his mind noticed. Shoot’s mind drifted back to when Skuld first appeared in his room at the hospital. In a way, things started spiralling after that, hadn’t they?

The world had grown wider with the things Shoot learned he hadn’t learned. He’d looked through someone else’s sketchbook. He’d felt the tips of Skuld’s fingers brush against the first knuckle of his hand, and listened as everyone in the room laughed at the comparison. Skuld didn’t have some grand goal, and she hesitated more than she didn’t. She kept secrets and didn’t seem to think that any of the Hunters would be less than annoyed to have her around. Biscuit Kreuger spelled out that Skuld had ruined her health permanently by trying to keep up with everyone else around her while ignoring her own weaknesses and needs. 

All three of the hunters had seen the same symptoms Biscuit Kreuger mentioned. But, it was different to hear it from someone else. Somehow. And it seemed like the severity just kept increasing. Or, rather, they kept discovering that it was worse. 

Shit. In some ways, it was like watching Gon. But, it was in slow-motion. It wasn’t a mission--even one that felt like forever. This was spread out over decades. One bad night of sleep or one cold at a time, all piling up. 

Shoot got a shiver when he thought about how Gon had looked in that hospital room. Knuckle had brought him to visit--only once, and in a wheelchair. The world had seemed to lose its color for a few days after that. 

No. That wouldn’t happen. Not again. No matter what. 

Shoot wasn’t sure if that inward promise was for Skuld, or just for himself. He didn’t know if he could see a scene like that, again. 

“This sucks,” Morel grumbled, then turned to the side. 

“Give it to me straight, Shoot. Am I a failure as a father?” Morel asked. 

Shoot choked on his fried rice, going into an extended coughing fit. Knuckle’s face twisted up as if to ask ‘what the fuck are you on about?’

Morel sighed, “That’s what I was afraid of.” 

“Don’t ask that sort of question with such a dry delivery,” Shoot finally managed between waves of coughing. 

Shoot also paused, blinking tears from his coughs out of his eyes. 

“Don’t forget to make a report to Beans. We ended up gathering some interesting information in a short span of time. He’d probably appreciate it,” Shoot murmured.

“I’m pissed about that school, for some reason” Knuckle grumbled. 

“There’s some shifty shit going on there. Maybe someone will end up investigating it,” Morel replied. 

Shit. Morel felt like he was missing something obvious. And it made him feel powerless. Skuld had ended up resting upstairs every day since she arrived here. It made Morel feel like he was doing something wrong. Or missing information. 

Knuckle drummed his fingers on the kitchen table. Then, mouth still full of Chinese take-out, Knuckle stood up and took a sharpie from a drawer. He then scrawled out ‘Skuld-kun’ on a few unopened styrofoam boxes of take-out and then put them in the refrigerator. Most likely, Skuld wouldn’t be up for cooking for a few days. 

“None of you assholes eat this, got it?” Knuckle said. 

Shoot snorted a breath out his nose. Softy. 

Morel dug his cellphone out of his pocket. 

“You’re a good older brother, Knuckle,” Morel said. 

Morel paused after dialing the number to reach Beans. 

“Someone let Palm, Ikalgo, and Meleoron that Skuld-chan caught a cold, so she might be slow responding to their scrabble thing,” Morel said. 


	12. An Ugly, Rotting Flower

**Chapter 12**

Two weeks passed. Morel made enough of a pest of himself that Knov finally agreed to go out for drinks. Morel told the ‘kids’ not to wait up for him. That left Shoot to read while Knuckle faced the greatest challenge he had yet to encounter.

Knuckle hid his face in his hands, hunched over a laptop at the kitchen table. He pushed a pile of paper to one side, then took a blank piece and began scribbling on it.

 

“Ah, don’t worry about it, Knuckle! I’m sure I’ll get it somehow. You don’t need to do it again,” Gon’s voice chirped over the skype video call.

 

“Shaddup! Yer gonna get it this time!” Knuckle slammed down his pen, snapping it in half against the table.

 

“Look! This is how it works! Yer gonna divide each side of the equals sign by 2x, then there’s just an ‘x’ on one side! Get it?! Can ya get it from there?” Knuckle yelled.

 

Shoot gave Knuckle a side-glance from his position on the couch. There was a vein pulsing on the side of the black haired man’s face. Ah, and there was the whisper-like clack of half the pen hitting the kitchen wall. It rolled on the floor, joining the others.

 

The sound of scratches on paper. Then more scratches, warped by the Skype connection. A pause. That vein on Knuckle’s forehead pulsed as he waited for Gon’s answer.

 

“S-so then I’d end up with--” Gon ventured.

 

“No! Yer killin’ me here, Gon,” Knuckle gripped both sides of the laptop screen, shaking it.

 

“I think I’ll just work on my history tonight, Knuckle. But, thanks for trying to help!” Gon tried to laugh, and didn’t quite succeed.

 

“Ok. Alright. Ok.--” With a crisp pop, Knuckle’s grip formed a small crack in the laptop screen, “We’ll pick this up in a few days. Just...just try ta--I don’ even know,” Knuckle forced a grin through his clenched jaw.

 

“Ok! Goodnight!” Gon chirped again, and then the call ended.

 

Knuckle closed the laptop. Then he stood and left through the back door. Probably, to go into the back yard and yell the rage off. That was Knuckle’s usual routine after a tutoring session with Gon. Shoot didn’t even look up when the door slammed shut, only turned to the next page in his book. Knuckle’s roar curled into the air. Shoot shook his head.

 

Then Knuckle stomped back into the house. He pulled the door closed behind him, and returned to the kitchen table. Shoot watched out of the corner of his eye as Knuckle opened the laptop again and began typing out something.

 

A report? No. Neither of the three of them had been on anything close to a mission or job since Shoot left the hospital. It wasn’t like they couldn’t. Several Hunters with healing hatsu had visited Shoot over the course of his hospitalization, and the tall man essentially left in nearly perfect health. He didn’t need physical therapy--which would have been a long and painful process--only because of that. Shoot had to wonder how long this was going to last. While Morel and Knuckle had agreed to put aside smaller missions for the time being, both of them would become overwhelmed by restlessness in another month. If that.

 

So what was Knuckle working on? Was it possible that Knuckle had received an assignment that Shoot wasn’t supposed to know about?

 

And since when had Shoot cared?

 

He knew the answer.

 

Still, Shoot told Knuckle they weren’t friends just weeks before then. Shoot was so practiced in rejecting others that he wasn’t sure how to go about the opposite. He was all turned back and silence. Knuckle had tried to speak to Shoot more than once, in his own awkward way. Even though he could have pretended he didn’t realize it, Shoot wasn’t stupid. The Beast Hunter put up an aggressive, delinquent front. But, he still had made more overtures of friendship than Shoot could remember. Maybe it was too late for that, now. Maybe Shoot had used up all of his chances.

 

Shoot scowled, expression hidden as he leaned further towards his book. At this point, Shoot wasn’t entirely sure what friendship entailed. He’d spent too much time looking in from the outside. When he watched Killua and Gon, he was half and half envious and horrified. Maybe it wasn’t for him. Was their friendship even the norm, or not?

 

Knuckle grunted, drumming his fingers on the table. 

 

“I feel real bad for that kid’s math teacher,” Knuckle grumbled.

 

“I-I think he’s home schooled. Killua said there are only two children on the island where Gon grew up,” Shoot choked on the first word.

 

Knuckle turned around, his face the picture of anguish.

 

“You serious? Poor woman. Gon’s got way less schoolwork than we had, but he’s struggling,” Knuckle grumbled.

 

Shoot snorted. Technically he had graduated high school, but only barely. His grades were fine, but he had attendance problems. Shoot’s anxiety kicked into high gear after he lost his arm, and towards the end he only showed up to school for exams. Knuckle, on the other hand, had dropped out of school early. Late middle school. If he remembered correctly, Morel and Knuckle were one of the main reasons that the schooling requirements for Hunters had dropped as low as it had.

 

Come to think of it, many Hunters had been ill-suited to traditional schooling in one way or another. Either they, like Knuckle, seemed to hate schooling or rocketed through education far quicker than they should, like Cheadle. In that way, Shoot was a rarity in his proximity to the norm.

 

“Killua said there was a toy store there. Why bother if there are only two kids?” Knuckle grumbled.

 

“Maybe the sailors and fishermen get stuff for their families while they are on the island?”

 

“They'd have to. Otherwise it'd be impossible to keep a place open, right?” Knuckle said.

 

Shoot hummed in agreement, but wasn’t sure. He had no clue what went into running a store.

 

“We should visit sometime,” Knuckle decided.

 

Shoot looked at Knuckle over the top of his book again. Huh. Well, it seemed like the type of thing Morel would have suggested at some point as well. In theory it sounded well enough--but he knew better. People in small towns starred more than people in big cities. And they'd attract attention. Ugh. The tall man felt his skin begin itching as he thought about it.

 

“Hm,” he said, instead of any of the things he was thinking.

 

“--eat some fresh fish, and hunt for clams. Maybe catch a summer festival,” Knuckle mused.

 

Geeze. For someone with a pompadour and general appearance of an over-aged high school punk, Knuckle sure had a preference for the kind of stuff seen in shoujo-manga summer specials, Shoot thought.

 

“Did Shishou ever get a call back from that doctor he was talking about?” Knuckle asked.

 

“I'm not sure,” Shoot answered.

 

That was one privilege Hunters enjoyed--access to medical records. Even most governments couldn't request that sort of thing, due to patient protection laws.

 

If Shoot thought about it, there had never really been much of a choice involved regarding if Shoot and Knuckle would become Hunters. Morel just rolled into Shoot’s home and life like a racing stormcloud. One moment he was shut in his room, for the tenth day in a row. The next moment, his backpack was ready and Morel dragged him of to god-knew-where. Shoot remembered the dark smudges under his mother’s eyes, and noticing the way wrinkles were edging into his father’s forehead.

 

His mother said he didn’t have to go. It was fine. They’d figure out something. Something. Anything. He didn’t have to worry or feel obligated. Morel said, ‘two years.’ Two years, and he’d make Shoot into a Hunter. And, then, maybe, he’d see that creature again.

 

At that time, Shoot didn’t care about the UMA that took his arm. He didn’t care about a career, about glory, about money. In that moment, he just a caged animal--like a spooked horse. He just needed permission to run away, to keep running, even though he had no clue what he was running from. Shoot made his choice, and told his parents that he would go with Morel.

 

It was probably the most assertive he’d been in years. Not probably. Definitely. And so they didn’t say anything in protest.

 

Shoot’s feet itched all the time, then. If he wasn’t moving, it was worse. Shoot just felt a deep yearning to go, go, go, always away. Always further. Even if they weren’t moving from place to place, just moving for Morel’s training routines helped. The more physically exhausted Shoot could force himself to become, the less his mind buzzed with static. The less he had to think. If he was counting punches, or something else, he could forget for that time how stuck he was in his own mind.

 

It was like all the flight response from the incident came full force, and never stopped. He’d only frozen then, unable to move, to speak. To do anything. And his body almost seemed like it was trying to make up for that, after.

 

Knuckle was different. Before Shoot was even in the picture, Knuckle had grown from a contrary youth that was defiant for defiance’s sake into a young man who had discovered an interest in protecting endangered species from human greed. Shoot might have felt pangs of envy between his racing thoughts--all of which screamed ‘run.’

 

There were two reasons why Shoot caught up to Knuckle in those two years. First, Shoot graduated high school. Knuckle wrestled with any subject that wasn’t mathematics, and had been kept back several grades when he was in the public school system. School work kept Knuckle from training for at least a few hours every day. Second, Knuckle had plans. Knuckle had interests. All Shoot had was a desperate need for motion of any kind to silence his thoughts, and that kept him training with an intensity that a balanced mind couldn’t match for long.

 

Maybe Knuckle resented it. After all, he’d trained with Morel far longer than Shoot. But, both of them had taken the Hunter Exam in the same year.

 

Shoot peered over his paperback at Knuckle. Knuckle stared back. Shoot’s gaze skittered away, back to his book.

 

“What the hell are ya lookin’ at?” Knuckle snarled.

 

It didn’t have the same bite that Shoot was used to.

 

Shoot didn’t respond. Even if he did, what would he even say? He made a short clicking noise with his tongue against his teeth. The tall man took note of what page he was on, then got up and abandoned the living room couch for his own room.

 

Knuckle felt the need to say something under his breath, but couldn’t think of what he might say.

 

* * *

 

The change snuck in early one morning.

 

Skuld had a nightmare. The air was muddy. It was like there were water marks in her vision, or something on the lenses of the glasses she hadn’t worn for years. She couldn’t feel the sensation of anything at her feet, and her fingers were numb. Everything was too tight, and smelled like it was too old. Like it was crusted on. Everything, absolutely everything, itched. She thrashed around, unable to move on the ground under the weight of the muddy, smudged air. Her limbs weren’t moving right. Were barely twitching in response to her commands. Were they broken? Something was wrong with her legs, with her arms, with everything.

 

Where was she? What was going on? Why was she so afraid?

 

If she stayed, it was terrible. If she fought off whatever held her--oh god she was so afraid. Something smelled wrong. No, it wasn’t a smell. It was almost like if smells had an after-taste, and it was like something was burning. Was she burning? Something was burrowing underneath her skin, and it might have been bugs.

 

Then, something gave way. Skuld grabbed at it, tearing at anything she could find until she freed her hands, then her arms, and then pulled herself head-first out of the mouth of some horrible, dessicated version of her own body.

 

Skuld woke covered in a sticky sweat. Too hot. Too cold. Her dark hair stuck to her face, more oily than it had any right to be only a few hours after a shower. She tried to push the covers off, or get up for a glass of water, or something. Then, her legs tangled in the sheets, she fell off the bed. The rest of her slid off the bed like a limp fish on land. Like an ugly, rotting flower the bugs had gnawed before it could bloom, Skuld’s aura fell out of hiding.

 

The young woman dry heaved on the floor once, then once more. Nothing came. But, it felt just the same as it did after vomiting. Something her body didn’t care for was gone, or partially gone. More importantly, her body stopped its waves of uncontrollable motion. All the physical distress was gone.

 

Skuld lay on the floor. Some sweat rolled down her nose, and into one nostril--causing her breathing to take on an acrid scent and her exhale through her nose to splatter wetly. She pulled in her breaths at first in shuddering gasps that were never quite enough. Seconds ticked by. Heart and lungs slowed. The young woman swallowed, and tried to clear her throat. Then she peered around the room.

 

Dark. No sounds from the other rooms. So she hadn’t woken anyone up. Good. No bird noises from outside.

 

Clock said about a quarter past three in the morning. There was still plenty of time to sleep. Not that she really had anything to do in the morning.

 

Skuld breathed out a long sigh through her nose. It felt like she was sagging inward. Or like she had the flu. She licked her lips. Probably shouldn’t stay on the floor.

 

Her head was so heavy. Her arms and her legs, too. With her hair plastered to her face and covered with the acrid scent of fear, Skuld felt empty. She couldn’t tell if it was a good empty, but it was better than before. Maybe. It didn’t matter. She could breathe. The air was cold and it stung. But, no matter the effort it took to pull that breath in, she could do it. All that mattered was how heavy her body dragged and how much she wanted to return to bed.

 

Like a snake shedding its skin, Skuld wriggled her way out of the tangled sheets and left them on the floor. She fell back into bed and pulled a comforter over herself and rolled over. Now her face felt heavy. Her heartbeat thumped its way all the way to her fingertips and toes. She could feel it. Skuld thought about rubbing her fingers together to test the new sensation. But, before she could, she was asleep once again.


End file.
